Law Dogs
by Belle Elegant
Summary: US Deputy Marshals Reigns, Rollins and Ambrose are sent out on their most dangerous assignment, to bring in the deadly outlaws known as the Wyatt Family. With evil stalking them, they have only each other to rely on. As the confrontation with the Wyatts looms, chances are increasing that all of them won't make it back. Contains violence and swearing.
1. Chapter 1

The Law Dogs

_1875, Montana Territory_

US Deputy Marshall Dean Ambrose glared at the man sitting behind the desk. The dust of the trail still was still clinging to his hair and black ankle-length duster, turning both gray. "Hunter, we just got back, and Roman is injured." he growled.

District Judge Hunter Hearst Helmsley, sat back and steepled his fingers as he regarded Dean with narrowed eyes. "I know that," he said, "but I need you, Seth _and_ Reigns on this immediately. The Wyatt gang needs to be brought in. They have robbed several Wells Fargo stages, which were carrying government payroll for troops stationed in the territories. Those lunatics need to be brought in for trial and that money recovered. "

Seth Rollins had been studying the wanted poster, his expression bemused. "Is that one seriously wearing a fucking sheep mask?" he asked. Roman Reigns leaned over Seth's shoulder to check. Yep, it was the mask of a sheep.

"Looks like he ain't playing with full deck," he observed, his black eyes narrowed. That last mission had been a close call for Roman and his wounds were still fresh. He moved a bit stiffly, favoring his left knee and the bandages on his left hand needed changing.

"None of them are," Judge Hunter said. "They have proven to be quite...sadistic," he said, his face twisted with distaste. "This is not optional, boys. This will not be allowed to continue. They have killed an entire posse already."

Dean ran a hand through his sandy blond hair, getting dust on Hunter's desk, which was the intent and judging by the judge's expression, it was not missed. "Alright, Seth and I will leave at first light," he started but Hunter interrupted.

"The three of you are on this," he ordered.

"Roman is not up for it," he argued but Roman wasn't having any of that.

"I'm fine," he growled at Dean. Dean glared at his fellow Marshall for contradicting him in front of the judge.

Hunter didn't even look at Roman. "All three of you are going, no arguing. This is a three man job."

Dean wanted to argue, but seeing Seth shaking his head, Dean shrugged and shut his mouth. There was no contradicting the authority on this and they knew it.

"Do they need to be living to stand trial?" Seth asked, changing the subject.

"No," Hunter replied, clearly relishing their capitulation. "The priority is to stop them and recover the money. You have your orders so get going. I have work to do."

Dean lead the others out of the office and out of the courthouse. "He is getting worse ever since he was appointed judge." he muttered.

They all knew Hunter had only gotten the position was because he was married to Stephanie McMahon, the daughter of Supreme Court Justice Vince McMahon. But anyone saying that out loud got on Hunter's bad side in a hurry.

Roman limped over to his big black gelding named Joe and unhitched his along with Dean's and Seth's mounts. "I'll take care of the horses while you guys get the provisions," he said.

"No, I'll take care of them, Dean will get provisions and you get your ass to Mark." Seth said. He knew Roman would be more apt to listen to him than Dean at the moment.

Dean nodded, giving Seth a look of thanks. "Get fixed up and meet us at the Boarding House."

Nodding reluctantly, Roman handed the reins to Seth and watched as the two other Marshals went about their tasks. A movement from the window above him drew his attention and he looked up at Hunter himself, smirking down at Roman. Roman had been less than discreet in questioning Hunter's judgment a while back, and as payment, had been given the most dangerous assignments the judge could come up with. So far he had come back alive, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he was given an assignment he wouldn't come back from.

He knew it would only stop if he crawled back to Hunter and licked his boots. But Roman would be dead before he gave Hunter that satisfaction. He had seen other law officers broken by the judge and did not want to end of like them.

Seth and Dean knew what was going on and so far had been able to keep Roman alive. But they had barely gotten there in time on that last mission to bring in the outlaw Alberto Del Rio from the Dakota Territory. He hated the thought of his friends put themselves in the middle of the feud between Hunter and himself, but Dean and Seth were determined to keep him alive, despite Hunter's slighted pride. Roman was humbled by their dedication.

He limped to the town's doctor and stepped in the door, calling out "Mark? Are you in?"

A huge figure stepped out from the back room. "Back so soon, Roman?" Mark was the local undertaker, and also the only person in the area with a medical degree. When he first met him, Mark's strange pale stare made Roman want to stay away, and deal with his own wounds, but now after so many visits he was used to it. "Need you to get me fixed up. I leave first thing in the morning."

Mark gestured for Roman to take a seat and began with his hand, unwrapping the bloody bandaging. Roman gritted his teeth and looked away from the wound.

"That one is pretty deep," Mark observed. He pulled out a bottle of brown liqueur and took a swig before dumping some onto the wound to clean it. Roman hissed as the sting hit him, but he didn't move.

"He is still trying to kill you," Mark said, readying the needle and thread.

"Yeah, I got that part," Roman answered. Mark was a strange duck, but he was also the only person in the area with absolutely no fear of the judge. Roman trusted him more than anyone who was not named Dean or Seth. "So what else is new? There is nothing I can do about the Authority."

Mark looked down at the young Marshall. He knew Roman Reigns had no choice but to do what the Authority said, he had taken the Oath. "Your friends are your only hope. " he said as he started stitching.

Roman shook his head. "You sent them to Dakota Territory, did you? Look, I appreciate it, but I do not want them killed because I shot my mouth off to an egomaniac judge with delusions of grandeur."

"It was their choice, I just told them where you were. Look at me, Roman," Roman looked at Mark, trying not to shiver under the intense gaze of the undertaker. "The Wyatts are not to be taken lightly. You need them. Let them help and together your are stronger than the Authority," Mark said.

Roman laughed, a hollow sound with no mirth. Mark was right, but then, he always was. "Alright, I'll stop fighting with Dean."

A ghost of smile was his answer.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Law Dogs**

They set out at first light in single file. Dean led the way on his sorrel gelding that had two hind stockings up to his hocks. He wore his usual rig; two revolvers strapped to his thighs and a shotgun in the scabbard.

Seth followed on his paint gelding, armed with his Henry rifle and a single revolver, preferring to shoot from a distance.

Roman brought up the rear on Joe. He too was carrying a revolver and a shotgun. He also had his Bowie knife in his boot.

They rode in silence at first, occasionally acknowledging greetings from passersby. Dean had never been a morning person and hated leaving at first light. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and let the horse follow the road unguided. The other two let him be, lost in their own thoughts. The sun climbed the sky behind them and grasshoppers jumped away into the grass.

After a few hours of steady walking, Dean lifted his hat and looked around. They were the only ones on the road, which had become more of a trail that disappeared into the tall grasses ahead of them. Dropping back to talk with Seth, they waited for Roman to catch up so they rode three abreast. He brought up what they were all thinking about. "We are going to do something about him," he said.

"It's not your problem, Dean," Roman said, his eyes narrow. "Stay out of it."

Seth flicked his hair out of his eyes. "Roman, if Dean or I was sent to bring in outlaws like Del Rio with no back-up, and he ordered you to, say for instance, distribute proclamations and clean the jury room, what would you do? Keep in mind you had just cleaned the jury room the day before." Of course this was exactly what had happened. If it hadn't been for Mark finding out about Hunter's little game, Roman would be dead.

Roman wanted to argue but couldn't. He knew that if either of his friends were in trouble, nothing would stop him from helping them. He pursed his lips in annoyance but had to admit Dean was right.

Seth kept his face neutral as he watched Roman work through his thoughts. "How much longer before your term is up, Roman?" he asked. As Marshals, they were appointed for four-year terms. Seth and Dean were nearing the end of theirs, but Roman had come to the Marshals later.

"About two and a half more years," Roman answered. He didn't have to say at the rate Hunter was gunning for him, he wouldn't see the end of his term.

"Dean, what do you plan to do after the Marshals?" Seth asked. He knew while Dean liked being a Marshal, he didn't seem to be truly devoted to the cause. Dean enjoyed the violence part of the job too much, and the administrative too little. Dean had never made it a secret that when his term was up, he was done. Which was too bad really, Dean could have been a damned fine Marshal if his boss taken an interest in him.

But even though Hunter was a smart man, he was not interested in doing his job. And that was becoming a problem. Hunter obviously played favorites, rewarding those he could use to gain more power. Dean wasn't one of them so Hunter ignored him or gave him crap jobs meant to demean and embarrass. Knowing Dean's volatile mentality it was miracle he hadn't snapped and beat the shit out of Hunter or burned down the courthouse. But Hunter was too arrogant to see Dean as a threat.

Instead, Hunter had gone after Roman, using Roman's scathing assessment of Hunter's ability to do his job as his excuse. What truly amused Seth though, was the fact that even though he tried to hide it, Hunter was _scared_ of Roman, which was understandable. Roman had the makings to be one of the truly great Marshals like Duane Johnson. And if you were as corrupt as the Authority, a person like Roman was not someone you wanted near your organization. So he made it his personal mission to get Roman out of the picture for good.

"Maybe go outlaw?" Dean's eyes gleamed at the thought. "I bet if I put my mind to it, I could be the most notorious outlaw since Steve Austin!" His horse shook its head and he leaned forward to rub its mane. Dean lived to walk on the wild side and the mere thought of breaking loose made him giddy.

"And look how Steve ended up," Roman snarked, shifting in the saddle in a vain effort to ease the discomfort of his injuries. Mark had stitched and bandaged him up, but his knee throbbed and his hand was next to useless for the time being. "Besides if you did, that prick Hunter would probably send me to bring you in. And I would hate to have to kill you."

"As if you could," Dean snorted. "It would take a posse of at least 10 guys to bring me in, and that's if you get lucky."

Roman glared at Dean and was opening his mouth to dispute when Seth snapped. "Will you two knock it off, for fuck's sake? Dean, quit egging Roman. And Roman, we are going to get you out of this, so stop being such a fucking martyr. We watch each other's back, like we always have. You got that?"

Both Dean and Roman nodded. Seth sent them an individual glare to ensure they got his point. Dean muttered something about Seth's britches being in a bundle, but he was ignored.

"What do you have in mind? Hunter's the Authority, and we took an oath." Roman said. He was all in favor of not dying, and though he had faith in Seth and Dean, he took his oath seriously.

"Let me think on it," Seth answered. "Let's get through this Wyatt family thing, and then we will fix our Hunter problem." He held his fist out, and was answered by two fists touching his.

_Thanks for reading! ~ Belle_


	3. Chapter 3

**Law Dogs**

_We're here_

Roman bolted up from his bedroll, shotgun pumped and ready as he scanned the area around the camp on one knee, ignoring the shooting pain. The campfire embers glowed softly, but not enough to interfere with his night vision. He kept very still, not even breathing as he stared daggers at the gaps in the surrounding giant Ponderosa pine trees. A ways back in the trees he thought he saw a light for a bare second, but it disappeared when he blinked.

Seth and Dean were sleeping in their bedrolls, and the horses stood quietly tethered nearby. He could see nothing was out of the ordinary, and yet Roman knew they were being watched. He lurched awkwardly to his feet, mentally cursing both Del Rio and his knee, while keeping the shotgun at ready as he swept the small clearing next to the road where they had made camp for the night. He checked the perimeter and even though his instincts were screaming at him that _something_ was there, he couldn't find anything to threaten. Everything was still.

He lowered his shotgun and swept his hair back over his shoulder. Judging from the position of the moon, it was the hour of the wolf, closing in on dawn. Bright stars gleamed cold overhead through the towering sentinels as the eastern sky was just barely starting to pale. He limped over to a nearby pine and sat down with his back to the trunk. He rubbed his knee absently while cradling the shotgun. Del Rio had really messed him up and the length of time it was taking to recover was irritating. He flexed his hand, glad to finally be able to move it somewhat now the swelling was receding.

They had been traveling steady for several days, nearing 'Wyatt territory' as Dean had dubbed it. No one knew exactly where the gang hung out when they weren't robbing stagecoaches, but there was enough information to make an educated guess. Their current destination was the nearest station to the last stagecoach robbery and Seth figured they would arrive there in the early afternoon, provided they could pry Dean off the ground at a decent hour.

Movement caught his attention as Seth stirred and sat up. He looked around and stiffened when he saw Roman's empty spot by the fire. Roman raised his sore hand enough to get his attention and Seth nodded. He climbed out of his bedroll and made his way over to Roman, sitting down next to him so they could talk without bothering Dean.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Not sure, something woke me up but I don't know what."

He nodded. Roman was developing good instincts and Seth trusted him. If Roman thought there was a reason to set a watch in the middle of nowhere, then there was a reason. They sat in silence, waiting for the dawn. Eventually Roman, to get his mind off his injuries, said "You never said what you want to do after the Marshals."

Seth considered for a while. "Maybe be a lawyer."

Roman could see it. In his own way Seth was as crazy and as smart as Dean. He would make a good lawyer. "You could prosecute Hunter on the grounds of being an asshole," he suggested.

Seth grinned. "I would have to prosecute the majority of the population if being an asshole were illegal."

"Or you could spend your time defending Dean when he is brought in after turning outlaw." Roman grinned. "That would be a full-time job right there."

"I could retire off him," Seth agreed, smirking.

"Will you two shut the fuck up?" Dean snapped from his bedroll, pulling the cover over his head. "I swear to god I will shoot you to get some peace and quiet."

Seth and Roman grinned at each other, but didn't say anything more until the eastern sky glowed bright. Then Seth got up and stirred the fire to life, adding more twigs while Roman filled the coffee pot. Coffee was the only thing that got Dean out of bed. While the water was heating, they fed and saddled the horses and rolled up their gear. Soon the only thing left on the ground was Dean, still sleeping.

"Dean!" Seth stood over the prone figure. "Time to wake up, sleeping beauty!"

One of Dean's guns emerged from under the blanket, cocked and ready, pointed directly as Seth. "Leave me alone," the blanket warned.

Seth scooted over a few feet. The gun tracked him perfectly. Dean was not to be taken lightly in the morning.

"Come on Dean, we have to hit the road," Roman said from across the campfire. A second gun emerged, pointed a Roman.

"What part of 'leave me alone' did you not understand?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Dean," Seth grumbled. "We go through this every morning."

Roman poured the coffee into a tin cup and made a show of sniffing it. "Mmm," he said. "Coffee is ready," he coaxed. "Seth, you want a cup?"

Seth rolled his eyes but went along with the morning ritual. He accepted the cup and drank, watching Dean peek out from under the blanket. His hair was standing on end, making him look even more unhinged than usual. "Dean, want a cup?"

Dean snarled and kicked off the covers as he reached for the hot cup. "Dumbass," he growled. Roman just laughed until Dean stuck his gun in Roman's face. Roman growled back and swatted the weapon away. "Watch it," he warned.

Eventually they got situated, finished breaking camp and mounted up. Dean pulled his hat down again, and trusted his horse to follow Seth and Roman's as they set out at a walk. Seth and Roman ignored him.

About midday they stopped at a stream to let the horses drink their fill. Roman dismounted to stretch his knee when a report of a gun fired right next to them had Seth and Roman drawing, looking for a target. Seth looked over and saw Dean, his hat pushed back and blowing the smoke from the barrel of his revolver. He looked at their faces and laughed. "You should see your faces!"

Seth stuffed his revolver back into its holster and snarled, "You fucking moron! What are you shooting at?"

Dean smirked at gestured with his gun. Roman limped into the grass where Dean had indicated and found a large black bird. It twitched once, and then was still. "You killed a buzzard," he said. "Why?"

Holstering his weapon, Dean shrugged. "It was following us, and I didn't like the way it was looking at us."

Roman and Seth exchanged looks, but Dean was Dean and there was no changing the lunatic. Roman shook his head in exasperation and turned to head back to his friends when something shiny caught his eye. He frowned when he saw it was a lantern. It obviously hadn't been out there long, there was no dust or rust on it. The feeling of being watched swept over him again and he looked around, scowling, his revolver in his hand. The trees were still, the only sound was the trickle of the stream.

"Hey Roman, you gonna stare at that dead bird all day or are we going to get going?" Dean called out impatiently.

Roman shook his head, holstered his gun and returned to the group. Catching Joe's reins, he mounted with a grimace, rubbing his knee as he settled in the saddle. He took one last long look around but failed to see anything unusual. Seth raised an eyebrow at Roman, but didn't say anything. They set out and Roman kicked Joe into a canter to make better time. There was something wrong, he could feel it, but he had no idea what.

_Thanks for reading! ~ Belle_


	4. Chapter 4

**Law Dogs**

_Author's note: Please note the rating. _

They made it their destination in the early afternoon, thanks to the faster pace set by Roman. The halted a ways back from the station, which consisted of a single low wood building with a wraparound veranda. A few tall pines dotted the area, most having been cut down to use for fencing or firewood. A paddock a contained several horses attempting to graze in an area with barely any grass. Judging by its size, this station did not offer food to passengers; rather it only kept fresh horses for the stages passing through. The caretaker was not in sight.

The three Marshals surveyed the area for a while, letting the horses catch their breath. The scene was peaceful with the sun shining overhead and a breeze making the trees whisper, but Roman glared in agitation. The feeling he had since before dawn, that feeling that something was not right had kept growing. Both Seth and Dean had twigged Roman's mood and were also restless. Joe pawed the ground and Roman absently rubbed his neck."How are we going to play this?" he asked.

"We are just three guys on our way through, that's all anyone needs to know at this point." Seth's plans had never led them wrong. He explained the strategy to Roman. "Dean and I have done this before. We don't use our real identity in order to not alert the quarry and have them run. Some people get nervous when Marshals show up."

"So not showing the shield," Dean confirmed, referring to their badges.

"Let's not tip our hand just yet," Seth agreed. "You ready?"

Roman nodded. Dean pulled out his revolver and fired it into the air to announce their presence, making the horses jump slightly. They waited for a bit to see if anyone would answer before nudging the horses into a walk and approached the station. There was no reply.

The silence stretched out, broken only by a creaking of an empty rocking chair being rocked by the breeze. Dean snorted and dismounted. Roman and Seth exchanged uneasy glances and dismounted as well. Seth threw his reins to Roman and indicated that he should take Dean's too.

"Dean and I will check out the station," he said, "Roman, take the horses and check around out back."

Roman's lips twisted in annoyance. If there was anything dangerous, it would be in the house and Seth knew it. But he didn't argue. All arguing ever did was give the other guy the advantage.

Dean was staring at the door, his hands were near his guns but did not draw. Seth waited for Roman to lead the horses away before he lifted the latch and motioned for Dean to go in. Dean smoothly stepping inside and to the side, minimizing any back lighting. Seth waited a beat then he too entered. Once their eyes had adjusted, they could see the single room was empty. Dean sighed in disappointment, as Seth started searching to see if there was any sign of what might have happened to the caretaker.

Roman lead the horses around back to the water trough, letting them drink while he loosened their girths. As he worked, he took a long look around. Nothing seemed out of place, and yet…

Not hearing any gunfire he figured that Dean and Seth hadn't run into trouble, so after the horses finished drinking, he tied them to the fence. There was a pile of hay in the corner of the paddock, but none of the stagecoach horses seemed interested in it, despite the lack of grass. He ducked through the fence and limped over to the hay pile. He noticed the smell immediately. Kneeling awkwardly, he uncovered the body of an older man, smallish with gray hair and mustache. His throat had been cut, but there was no blood on the ground. He had been moved since he was killed. Judging by the state of the corpse, the man had died not long ago. Romans lips tightened and he stood up, looking around. He noticed a few buzzards up in the trees, but they made no move, just sat quietly watching him. Seeing that, he was briefly tempted to emulate Dean and shoot them, but didn't.

Other than that, there was nothing. It was frustrating.

Inside, Seth was busy looking through the station's logs, trying to figure out when the last stage had come through and when the next one was due. The windows were open, allowing the breeze in, and sunlight stabbed through motes of dust kicked up by their boots. "It looks like the last stage that came through was yesterday afternoon. The next one is due the day after tomorrow," he reported.

Dean wandered over to the bunk, noticing the lumps under the covers. He yanked them back and took an involuntary step back in surprise. "Shit!"

Seth glanced up and saw the bunk was caked in dried blood. On the bed amidst the blood was a dead dog, some kind of mutt by the looks of it. The blood hadn't come from the dog, there was too much blood for the dog's size.

Dean shook his head, disgusted. Whatever issues Dean had with birds, he liked dogs. "That's just messed up," he said."The Wyatts do this you think?"

"Probably," Seth answered. "Hunter said they were sadistic, and if you were weird enough to wear a sheep mask, killing a dog and leaving it in a bed of blood probably wouldn't bother you none." Seth came over to take a closer look. The dog 's neck had been broken. Around its neck was a plain leather collar with some sort of medallion attached. Seth unfastened it, looked grim and and showed it to Dean.

"A Marshal's badge," Dean pondered the implications. "That means they know we are coming for them." His eyes took on an unholy gleam of excitement. This was right up Dean's alley. "This assignment is getting better all the time!"

Seth inhaled as he thought. "They know Marshals are coming for them, not necessarily us in particular." He turned the badge over and scowled. "Or rather, they know who exactly is coming after them. Fuck." He showed it to Dean, who swore creatively.

"Dead guy in the hay pile," Roman reported as he entered the building, ducking under the door frame. "It looks like the caretaker."

Dean and Seth looked at Roman, who paused. "What?" he asked.

Seth tossed the badge to Roman, who caught it with a puzzled look. "It was on the dead dog in the bed," Dean explained.

"Are they taunting us?" Roman asked, rubbing a drop of blood off the edge of the badge.

"Turn it over," Seth advised quietly.

Crude letters scratched on the back of the badge spelled out ROMAN REIGNS.

_Thanks for reading! ~ Belle_


	5. Chapter 5

**Law Dogs**

Roman's jaw worked as he read his own name on the bloody badge. His mind raced, trying to figure out what it meant. Was this the work of the Wyatts or was this someone else's idea of a sick joke? Was there someone in his past gunning for him? Or someone he had never heard of? Was he the only target or were the badges out there with Seth and Dean's name scratched on them? His thoughts spun harder and he gripped the badge so tight he could feel the metal bend. He heard Seth call his name and looked up.

"Don't over-think it Roman," Seth advised, his eyes understanding.

"Yeah, they're just messing with your head," Dean said. "Don't let it get to you." He walked out the door, slapping Roman on the shoulder as he went in a familiar gesture of reassurance.

"He's the expert when it comes to messing with heads," Seth acknowledged with a wry smile. "Stay focused on the assignment. You, me and Dean are a team, we have your back."

Roman took a deep breath and wrapped the badge up in a scrap of cloth, for evidence. "Was there anything else?" he asked, his voice steady. Seth was right, as always.

"No," Seth said.

"Then let's bury that poor bastard and his dog. We need to find these sick fucks and stop them." Roman scooped up the dog's body and they went out into the sunlight.

Dean had stopped on the veranda and was looking up at the buzzards staring back at them. His hand was resting on the butt of his gun. He looked thoughtful.

"Don't start killing birds again," Seth said as he walked by.

"I don't like the way they are watching us," Dean explained, entirely reasonable in his quirks.

"You might want to save your ammunition," Roman advised. "Mighty embarrassing running out in the middle of a fight with the Wyatts." Seeing Dean glare at him, Roman smirked. "Just saying."

Seth and Roman found a shovel behind the cabin and set about digging a grave, while Dean scouted around looking for the Wyatts' trail. It wasn't hard, there were practically engraved signs with arrows pointing out the way they went.

After they had done all they could do for the caretaker, his dog and the stagecoach horses, the three Marshals checked their gear, strapped on their guns, mounted up and set out on the path Dean had found. None of them mentioned how obvious it was. They all knew it was a trap.

Dean took the lead, Seth followed and Roman brought up the rear, his shotgun out and ready to use. It was getting on towards late afternoon and the trail wound steadily back higher into the hills, rocky with sparse vegetation. Dean halted briefly once and waited for Seth and Roman to catch up. He didn't say anything, but they followed his gaze into the distance and saw the black specks of many circling birds. They moved on.

It was getting dark when Dean signaled a halt. They led their horses between two hills to stay out of sight and for shelter. Instead of making camp, they only loosed the horses' girths, and ate a cold meal. There would be no campfire tonight. Dean took first watch, to be followed by Seth, then Roman. Seth and Roman laid down back-to-back like they had dozens of times before for warmth and cover each other if they woke up to hostiles.

Dean sat with his back to a rock, hidden from sight as he kept watch. Crickets chirped and the breeze rustled the scrub brush. The stars wheeled bright overhead before the full moon starting breaking over the horizon, orange and casting strange shadows. After about an hour Dean stiffened in alarm. In the distance where they had been headed a light shone so dim that Dean almost thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He shifted his shotgun carefully, not making any noise as he rose to his feet and as quiet as a ghost made his way toward it. He was about halfway there when he felt something worryingly like a pistol barrel against the back of his head. He froze, and then raised his hands out to the sides. A low voice, barely more than a whisper, invited "Welcome Marshal Ambrose. Mr. Bray would like a word with you."

The moon was riding high in the sky when Seth sat up and looked around. Roman was sleeping, his breath steady. Judging by the moon, it was a ways past time for his watch. Picking up his rifle, he walked quietly to where he had seen Dean settle down to keep watch. He didn't see him at first and was just about to call out to Roman, but a movement caught his eye and Dean materialized out of the shadows. He looked pale in the moonlight, and shadows concealed his eyes. But he shook his head at Seth's raised eyebrow inquiry, indicating there was nothing to report. Seth nodded, patted him on the shoulder and settled in for his watch, already missing the warmth.

Dean stepped carefully back to where the horses were and laid down next to Roman, not looking at his friend. He pulled the blanket over himself. He felt Roman stir in his sleep and his back press up against him in the dual gesture of warmth and protection. Like they had done countless times before. He took a long breath and released it.

He shut his eyes and for the first time in his life, hoped the dawn would never come.

_Thanks for reading! ~ Belle_


	6. Chapter 6

**Law Dogs**

They set out at before first light after breaking camp, for once not having to coax Dean out of his bedroll. They didn't say a word; there was no need for spoken communication. They were a team and the only goal was taking down the Wyatts.

They set out in the direction of the buzzards, Dean in the lead. After a mile or so, Dean held up a hand signaling to stop and dismount. They left the horses ground tied behind as they worked their way up the side of a steep hill, careful not to dislodge any rocks. They lay on flat on the ground, surveying the scene in front of them.

A small cabin, very nearly hidden in the scrub brush and boulders stood nestled against the side of the hill on the plateau. Buzzards drifted around in the air, lazy and circling. A rocking chair sat in front of the cabin and a small paddock held three horses dozing hip-shot in the morning sun.

There was movement in the house as the door opened and a heavyset man with a bushy beard and straw hat pulled low over his head wandered out into the sun. He was carrying a bucket and sat heavily in the chair and rocked slowly. He reached into the bucket and pulled out a piece of meat of uncertain origins. The buzzards started landing awkwardly as the man tossed the meat into the area in front of the cabin.

Roman, Seth and Dean retreated down the hill so they could make a plan.

"Looks like that's Bray Wyatt in the rocking chair. We need to find Rowan and Harper before we get this started," Seth said. "Dean, scout around and see if you can locate them."

Dean looked like he was going to say something, but changed his mind and set out.

The buzzards continued to circle overhead as the sun climbed into the sky. Roman flexed his hand. There was still some stiffness. Handling a revolver would be tough; he would have to use the shotgun. Seth checked his rifle and nodded to Roman. Grimly they smiled at each other.

About half an hour later, Dean came back quietly and crouched down next to Seth. "They are in the cabin," he reported.

"Good," Seth said. "All of them in one spot will make this easier." He turned to Roman, "You and Dean go in first and draw them out into the open. I will cover you until you get them secured. If it comes to gunplay, take out Bray. I will take Rowan and Dean you have Harper. Ready?" he held out a fist and was answered by two fists touching his.

They climbed back up and saw Bray still sitting in the chair, rocking and singing to himself. Dean drew one of his revolvers out of its holster and nodded to Roman. They stood up and walked side by side towards the cabin. Buzzards flapped frantically as they approached, trying to get away.

"Bray Wyatt," Roman said as they stopped about ten yards away, his shotgun pointed directly at the outlaw. "We are US Deputy Marshals executing a warrant for your arrest on the charges of robbery, murder and resisting arrest."

Bray didn't look at all surprised. He smiled like they were long-lost family and stood up, taking his hat off in a gesture of greeting. "Good morning, US Deputy Marshal Roman Reigns, and US Deputy Marshal Dean Ambrose. I suppose US Deputy Marshal Seth Rollins will be joining us soon?" he asked.

"Marshal Rollins is currently pointing a large rifle right at your head, Mr. Wyatt. Please do us all a favor and decide if we must kill you now, or if you prefer to hang at Judge Hunter's convenience. Which will it be?" Roman asked, secretly hoping Bray chose option number one. He felt Dean shift slightly behind him, his gun pointed at the cabin.

Laughing Bray put his hat back on and reached out wide with both arms. "Marshal Reigns, I believe I shall wait for my demise. We have waited such a long time to meet you and it would be a shame to deny myself an opportunity to get to know the illustrious Roman Reigns better."

There was still no sign of Rowan or Harper. The cabin was small and there was no way they had not heard the loud conversion. Feeling that something was wrong Roman stalled for time by asking, "How did you know that it was us coming for you?"

"Why, the stars told me! They sing to me, and tell me their secrets." Bray tilted his head back and shouted to the heavens. Roman looked at Dean in disbelief of what he was hearing. Obviously this guy was completely bonkers. Dean looked uncomfortable and shifted impatiently from side to side.

"Bray Wyatt, get your hands in the air and keep them there." Bray complied easily, his lunatic smile never faltering. "Good, now step toward me and lay face down with your hands behind your head." Roman did not take his eyes from Bray as the man did as he ordered, his creepy staring eyes never once leaving Roman's as he knelt in the dirt. Christ, he was still smiling. Roman raised his voice to address the men in the cabin. "Rowan and Harper come out of the cabin with your hands above your head and you will be taken in to custody. If you do not come out, we will come in and you will be killed." The cabin was silent. "Dean, what's going on?" he asked.

There was no answer from Dean and Roman risked taking his eyes off of Bray to look. Dean was looking at something behind Roman, his face pale. Roman pivoted to keep both Bray and what Dean was looking at in his field of vision. He snarled in rage at seeing Seth, kneeling with his hands behind his head and Rowan behind him with a gun pointed right at Seth's skull. "SETH!" he shouted.

On his knees, Bray was laughing and Roman turned on him pulling back the hammer of the shotgun. "Tell your man to let him go, or I swear to god I will kill you right here." His voice shook with rage.

Bray drew in an ecstatic breath, like he was inhaling something unbelievably sweet. "You are truly magnificent. But the stars, oh the stars, they sing a different tune." He turned to Dean. "Marshal Ambrose, if you please."

Before Roman could understand, Dean pointed his gun directly at Roman's head. "Drop the gun, Roman," he ordered. Roman froze, unable to believe Dean was serious.

"Dean, what the fuck?" Seth shouted in complete disbelief, still on his knees.

"Dean! This is not the time for you to go off the rails!" Roman took a hand off of his shotgun to swat away Dean's revolver. Dean responded by kicking Roman right in his injured knee.

Shouting in pain, Roman tried to swing the shotgun around to cover Dean but he was too close and his knee gave out as he shifted his weight. Dropping to his hands and knee, he tried to lift the gun again, but Dean kicked it out of his hand, sending it skittering away. Dean then proceeded to kick Roman several times directly in the stomach, and once again in his injured knee. Roman tried to protect himself but Dean was an experienced fighter who fought dirty. Throughout the beating Seth, horrified and helpless, continued to shout for Dean to stop.

Dean grabbed a handful of Roman's hair and pulled it back, forcing Roman's head back so he could stare into his eyes. "Dean?" Roman gasped, still in shock, not so much from the beating but from the betrayal.

Dean's eyes were dead behind his fringe of hair falling down over his forehead. "I want you to know, I am just doing what's best for business," he hissed. Bray Wyatt shouted with laughter.

Roman grabbed Dean's collar, dragging their faces within inches of each other's. "Dean, you understand I will kill you for this, right?" he snarled. Dean sneered and drew back his fist, punching Roman's jaw so hard Roman's head whipped around and he saw stars. Dazed, he wondered why they didn't sing.

Dean dropped Roman to the ground and yanked Roman's restraints from his belt. Forcing Roman's hands behind his back, he fastened them securely. He stood up and looked at Bray for a second then walked toward Seth and Rowan. "I kept my side of the bargain, Wyatt," he reminded Bray.

"Indeed you did!" Bray agreed. "Such beautiful betrayal, such pain you inflict!" Harper came into view leading the Marshals' horses.

Dean ignored Bray and stopped in front of Seth, who stared up at Dean as if they hadn't been friends for years. "Dean, why?" he demanded.

Dean didn't answer. Instead he looked at Rowan, held out his own restraints and told him to put them on Seth. Seth struggled, trying to get away, but Rowan was big, bigger than Roman, and he didn't stand a chance. With Seth's hands secured behind him, Rowan and Harper picked him up and threw him over the saddle. Seth tried to kick out but missed as they secured him so he couldn't bail off the horse. Dean mounted his sorrel, reached for the heavy-looking bag Harper was handing him and stuffed it in his saddle bag. He then took Seth's horse's reins and took one last look in the yard.

Bray stood behind Roman who was on his knees. A thick handful of hair kept Roman's head pulled back as Bray leaned forward to whisper in his ear, but Roman was not paying attention. His focus was solely on Dean, as Dean turned his horse and cantered away, Seth in tow.

Seth was still shouting at Dean to stop, but that didn't drown out Roman's scream of rage and betrayal echoing behind them.

_Thanks for reading. ~ Belle_


	7. Chapter 7

**Law Dogs**

Shouting at Dean wasn't working, so Seth put his efforts into getting loose. They were getting further and further away from Roman and the Wyatts with each stride of the horses. Dean had the key to the handcuffs Seth wore, but had apparently forgotten that Seth had his own cuffs and the keys to both sets were identical. Fishing around, Seth's fingers closed on the cuffs still hooked to his belt and carefully worked the key loose from where it sat in the lock when not in use. He did not want to lose it. He gritted his teeth at how long it took.

Eyes fixed on Dean's back; he twisted his wrists until he could fit the key into the lock on the cuffs on his wrists. He felt the cuff open and pulled his hand free. Immediately freeing himself from the rope holding him in the saddle, Seth kicked his paint to go faster and moved alongside Dean. Dean looked up right as Seth launched himself out of the saddle directly into Dean. Dean's sorrel staggered a bit at the sudden unbalanced weight, causing Dean to lose his balance and both he and Seth went crashing down into the brush and rocks.

Even though Seth had landed on top, true to his reputation Dean did not lose a second before going on the attack. He pushed Seth off of his chest and came up swinging. Seth ducked and buried his shoulder into Dean's midsection. Dean's breath _whooshed _out as he doubled over, but he still was able to bring a forearm down hard on Seth's back. Seth went to his knees at the impact, but he had kept his head and came up with his objective: one of Dean's revolvers. He pointed it right between Dean's eyes and pulled back the hammer. Dean froze.

"Start talking," Seth ordered as he climbed to his feet. Both of them were covered in scratches and bruises from the landing and the resulting brawl. Dean had a bit of sage brush sticking out of his hair.

"It was a trap," Dean said between gasps from breath. "They knew we were coming."

"We knew that already!" Seth snapped. "Roman's name was on the fucking badge! It couldn't have been more obvious!"

"Who told them?" Dean shouted back. "We were in the Dakota Territory until a few days ago. Hunter sent us out right away. Think Seth! How the fuck did they know?"

Seth looked at Dean, unwilling to answer that question just yet although he had his suspicions. Not lowering the gun, he said "Why did you sell out Roman?"

Looking away, Dean curled his lip with disgust. "They got the drop on me last night," he admitted. Seth waited. "They were going to kill all of us, so I tried to make them believe I could be bought. They agreed to let you and me go free, in exchange for Roman." Dean looked straight at Seth, "He was the one they wanted anyway. It appears that they have _special _orders concerning him. Anyway, Bray believed me and we made a deal: I would deliver Roman and we could go free. Bray even gave us a portion of the money he was paid to take Roman down. He said we earned it. I think he wanted us to take it to keep our mouths shut."

"Why the hell didn't you just tell us?" Seth demanded. "We could have prepared and," he started but Dean interrupted.

"Because they've been watching us this whole time," he snapped. "The minute they thought you and Roman were suspicious they would have killed all of us before we could get draw our guns!" He kicked the ground in frustration. He needed Seth to understand.

Lowering the hammer back but keeping the revolver trained on Dean, Seth stepped back a few steps. He felt sick to his stomach. "We have to go back," he said.

"They're still watching us. We'll just get killed and Roman will still be in the hands of the Wyatts," Dean said. He didn't need to say that Roman probably wouldn't care if he died. Roman's words still echoed in his head. "Seth, you know I had no choice, right?" Even as he spoke the words, he hated them.

They locked gazes for long seconds before Seth finally lowered the gun and walked back to his paint. He picked up the reins but hesitated before mounting up. "Dean, do you still believe in the shield?" he asked.

Dean didn't move as he thought about the question. Did he? He remembered the day he and Seth took the Oath. They had been so naive back then. And so arrogant. They had seen how much injustice there was in the world. And they would put an end to it. Things had been so clear to them. Things had been heading in the wrong direction and they were going to step in and right those wrongs. It wasn't about benefiting anybody; it was about right and wrong. They were about principles, they were about honor. Where honor no longer existed, they would step in. They were the shield against injustice.

Did he still believe in that? The breeze whispered around them. Seth was looking off into the distance as Dean pondered. He thought about what they had accomplished. The outlaws they had brought to justice.

And then it started going wrong.

It all came back to Hunter. Hunter had fucked everything up with his ego and games. It was Hunter who played favorites, who back-stabbed, who stood against everything the shield stood for. It was Hunter who had no issue with seeing men conveniently dead or broken when they challenged him. And it was Hunter's vendetta against Roman, who had the balls to call him out.

And Roman, who had believed their philosophy, believed in their justice, in his friends, in the shield, who was denied justice from one of the two people who should have had his back.

He looked at his badge. By itself it was just a piece of shaped tin. What meaning it had was whatever meaning they decided it had. Because that's what it was: a symbol of their belief. Roman, Seth and Dean wore the shield because _they_ were the shield. And when the dust cleared, and the bodies were counted it was up to them to stand for what they believed in.

Fuck Hunter.

Dean lowered his gaze to find Seth looking at him dead in the eyes. "So what do we do?" He picked up his hat and placed it back on his head after picking the sagebrush out of his hair.

Seth inhaled deeply. He was so relieved he did not to have to kill Dean that he had to lean against his horse lest his legs gave out. He wiped a gloved hand over his face. "We are going to get Roman out of there, and then we are going to find whoever sold us out and take them down," he vowed. He turned to mount up when he felt the barrel of Dean's other revolver on the back of his neck. "Don't move," Dean whispered.

Seth was furious with himself for believing Dean only to be betrayed again. He was about turn and attack when Dean continued, "There, on the hill with the large gray boulder. Do you see it? Look carefully but don't make it obvious that you are looking."

On the hill Dean indicated he could just make out a dark shape crouching in the shadow of the boulder, and the glint of sunlight on gunmetal.

"See, told you they are still watching us," Dean said.

_Thanks for reading!_ ~Belle


	8. Chapter 8

**Law Dogs**

_Author's note: The chapter has Wyatts. Be warned._

Roman Reigns was no stranger to dangerously unbalanced men. He had been a Marshal long enough to know that his chosen profession had him interacting daily with individuals who liked the idea of hurting him as much as possible before trying to kill him. Every time he went out to bring in a fugitive he ran the risk of pain and death, Del Rio being the most recent example. He had accepted the danger when he accepted the shield.

This time Roman knew he was in deep trouble, far worse than any he had ever faced before.

During his time as Marshal he had never meet anyone quite like the Wyatts. He had run across some disturbing individuals before, from that headcase Golddust to Dean Ambrose himself. But Bray Wyatt took crazy to a whole previously undiscovered level. He could sense there was something deeply wrong with Bray, much like the same way you could sense a rabid animal. Something like that demanded to be put down immediately.

But tied up and injured as he was, he couldn't see a way get that job done. They had taken away his guns. His knee was screaming at him from being forced to kneel in front of the pontificating Wyatt, as did his already injured hand where Dean had kicked him. His stomach was severely bruised and his jaw throbbed, again thanks to his former friend and partner. His friends had abandoned him, although in all fairness that was solely on Dean. He could tell Seth had been just as shocked about Dean's betrayal as Roman was.

The only thing Roman had going for him was his cold rage and determination that Bray Wyatt would not get to him. He kept himself perfectly still.

"Marshal Roman Reigns," Bray drawled his name like he was tasting it. Cocking his head to one side he examined Roman up and down like a particularly well prepared meal. "You are an interesting creature," he whispered.

Roman stared back at him square in the eye, not giving an inch.

"I sense no fear in you, but that is only because you do not know just who it is you are dealing with," Bray stated as he paced around, swiping a hand through his long stringy, sweaty hair. Roman didn't answer; he just rolled his eyes at Bray's theatrics and if that pissed Bray off, Roman would take that a win. A small win, but a win nonetheless. Taking Bray seriously would only fuel the man's delusions.

Rowan was hovering nearby with that creepy sheep mask on his face. He was one of the biggest guys that Roman had ever had the misfortune of meeting, standing a full fives inches taller than Roman himself and had at least fifty pounds on him. Roman eyed him, mentally trying to figure out which was the best way to take him out if he ever got the chance. Anything to get his mind off of the pain and Bray Wyatt's nonsensical talking.

"Look at me!" Bray commanded as he grabbed Roman's jaw, forcing his attention back on him. Roman schooled his face blank. He knew Bray would do things to try to get a reaction out of him but he was determined that wasn't going to happen. Bray leaned closer and Roman could smell his breath. Roman's eyes narrowed as he held the pale stare. Satisfied Bray released him and paced away again, resuming his monologue about how Roman was going to find out exactly why it was a bad idea to make an enemy out of the Wyatts. "You will learn!" Bray promised, stabbing a finger at Roman. "You. Will. Learn. Much to your regret," he muttered as he turned away.

Knowing it was a bad idea to respond, but unable to stop himself Roman commented, "So far, the only thing I've learned is that you talk too much."

He didn't have time to brace himself before Rowan's huge boot clubbed him right in the ribs, sending him sprawling on his side. With his hand tied behind his back he couldn't catch himself and winced as the rocky ground dug into his hip and shoulder. Rowan kicked him again and again, aiming for his midsection. Roman tried to curl into a ball to protect himself, but all too many of Rowan's kicks landed right in the breadbasket, knocking the wind completely out of him.

Bray came up beside Rowan and put a hand out. Rowan immediately stepped back, serene once more. Roman glared up at Bray as he tried to catch his breath and manage the pain whipping through his body. Bray watched Roman gasping in the dirt for a minute before he reached down and took a fistful of Roman's hair to raise his head. "You must forgive Erick," he said in that slow, southern drawl. "You see, he is very devoted to our family and any sign of disrespect must be severely dealt with." Pulling Roman back up to his knees by his hair, he caressed Roman's cheek tenderly. Roman stopped himself from flinching back from that most unwelcome touch. Bray smiled as if he could sense Roman's revulsion. "Truly magnificent," he murmured.

Knowing that Bray would try to exploit any weakness, Roman concentrated on his cold rage, depending on the icy calm to keep his thoughts clear from the taint of Bray Wyatt. "Why don't you just kill me now?" he growled. "Isn't that what you were paid to do?"

Throwing back his head and laughing, Bray said "This was never about the money. This is about something...more." Eyes wide with false innocence, Bray took a step back from Roman and crouched down so he could look directly into his eyes. He smiled a deranged smile. "Eventually you will die," he admitted. "Probably not as soon as you will hope to. You see, there is a demon inside me," Bray confided and leaned in closer. Once again Roman had to force himself to not lean away as Bray whispered into his ear. "and you will be its next vessel."

_Thanks for reading! ~ Belle_


	9. Chapter 9

**Law Dogs**

_Warning: There are Wyatts and violence. Proceed with utmost caution._

Roman wished he could say he was surprised by that revelation, but he wasn't. He had never believed in the supernatural, preferring to live in the real world. He had run across fire-and-brimstone preachers in the past, along with hucksters and various healing sideshow types. Dean would mock them mercilessly and Seth would try to question them into a theological corner just for giggles. Roman tended to ignore them as long as they weren't breaking any laws. Freedom of speech and all that. He had never once seen anything that could make him believe that the supernatural existed.

Roman decided to take a shot at reason."Bray," he said, keeping his voice steady. "In my experience, there is no such thing as demons, just very evil men using them as an excuse to do terrible things," he said with a sidelong glance at Erick. He wondered where where Harper was.

Erick shifted forward again but Bray shook his head. "No brother," he sighed. "The marshal has come to a reasonable, if mistaken, conclusion. Alcohol, for instance, is a demon of mankind's own making." Bray started pacing again. "But the demon inside me, Marshal, she is real."

Obviously Bray Wyatt and reality lived in different time zones. He gritted his teeth and got one foot under him. Erick again started forward but again Bray held out his hand. Seeing that they weren't going to stop him, Roman gained his feet and stood up, relieved to get the pressure off his knee. As he found his balance, Roman was mildly surprised that he and Bray were the same height. He was used to being one of the taller men in a gathering. In terms of sheer size, Roman was the smallest man of the three and found it disconcerting. Bray smiled and Roman raised his chin in defiance.

He made one more attempt at being reasonable."Bray, listen to me. I am a US Deputy Marshal. If you kill me, more marshals will come after you and with them will be the army. Give yourself up and I promise I will deliver you alive to Judge Hunter. You, Erick and Harper. You have my word." He was bluffing about the army but maybe Bray didn't know that.

Smiling, Bray walked over and sat down in his rocking chair, his eyes never leaving Roman's as he rocked back and forth, back and forth. "I appreciate your generous offer, I sincerely do," he said in his southern drawl. "But the Sister Abigail has decided."

The report of a gunshot, probably a rifle by the whip-cracking sound of it, echoed like thunder through the nearby hills and died after a few seconds.

Another followed.

The sun blazed down from directly overhead, broken occasionally by the shadow of a circling buzzard. Bray inhaled deeply, looking at peace. He removed his hat and laid it on his chest in a gesture of respect. "A beautiful epitaph," he said, "for your friends."

It took Roman about two full second to understand. His jaw muscles jumped as his rage turned from cold to white hot, surging through his body like molten steel. "You should not have done that," he snarled in a voice that sounded like death itself.

Erick stepped up behind him. Roman didn't hesitate, he spun and swept out with one leg taking out Erick's feet, sending the mute giant crashing to the ground. All his pain disappeared, overridden by the urge to kill these men who murdered his friends. Rage pounded through him as he stomped down hard on Erick's chest and stomach. He kicked at Erick's head but missed as the man rolled away with surprising agility. Following the rolling man, Roman kicked him hard in the thigh as he tried to get to his feet. Erick flopped back down on the earth and Roman stomped down on the man's hand, hearing bones break. Throughout the attack, Erick made no sound. He made two more powerful kicks to Erick's stomach and one solid kick to the head and Erick was still.

Roman turned slowly toward Bray, his hair falling over his face but it didn't obscure his glare. A flash of uncertainty broke through Bray's insanity. He rose to his feet.

Roman strode toward him, his bad knee making him limp slightly but he paid it no mind. His rage wasn't even nearly satiated. Bray backpedaled away in alarm. Roman followed him, his breath hissing between gritted teeth, and gray eyes narrowed. Bray fetched up against the wall of the cabin, nearly knocking his hat off under the low-slung roof overhang. Roman marched up to him and lifted one powerful leg to kick him squarely in the stomach.

Bray's eyes bulged as he doubled over. Roman kicked him again in the face, sending Bray sprawling face first against the cabin. Roman tugged desperately at the cuffs, wanting nothing more than to beat Bray Wyatt to a pulp with his fists.

Bray turned and faced him, pain etched on his features. Roman stepped up right into his face and snarled "Fuck taking you to Hunter. I will kill you right here, right now." He head-butted Bray as hard as he could. He could feel Bray's nose break under the impact with his forehead.

Bray screamed, blood gushing out of his nose. Then he looked Roman dead in the eyes and laughed.

Erick's arms wrapped around Roman's shoulders from behind and dragged him off Bray. Roman threw his weight backward, trying to unbalance the bearded giant. That didn't work so he stomped down hard on the man's foot, roaring in rage. Erick tossed him flat on his back to the rocky ground and he gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. He immediately rolled to get back to his feet but Erick caught him, rolling him back on his back. Erick's full weight came down on his chest as the man straddled him. Roman trashed and kicked, but Erick's knees were wedged against his shoulders and he could not gain enough leverage to move the over three hundred pounds off of him.

"Hold him still!" Bray commanded, doing something out of Roman's line of vision.

A thick fist cracked against his jaw right where Dean had hit him earlier. Darkness swam across his vision but he refused to give in to it. He tried desperately to wrap his legs around Erick to pull him off, but Erick's fist came down again with stunning force and all the rage-fueled strength evaporated.

Bray wandered into view, blood soaking his mouth and beard. He crouched over Roman who fought to remain conscious. "Now you will meet Sister Abigail. She leads us with love, but she also told us that the fires were our friends too. Her touch can save the world," he leaned his face closer to Roman's so it blocked out the sun, and blood dripped onto Roman's cheek. "But her kiss will burn it to the ground," whispered as he stroked Roman's hair back and gently kissed Roman's forehead, leaving a bloody mark.

"What will she decide, I wonder?" Bray mused. He nodded to Erick who applied pressure to Roman's jaws, forcing his mouth open. Bray poured some kind of liquid down down his throat. It tasted like horror and madness and it burned. Roman tried to spit it out, but Erick's huge hand clamped own over his lips and nose, cutting off his breath until he involuntarily swallowed. Erick stood up and Roman curled over on his side, coughing hard and willing himself to vomit the vile stuff back up, but he couldn't.

Bray looked down at him. "The kiss or the touch? Sister Abigail will decide." He looked at Erick and said "Please take him to the waiting room while he purifies."

Roman felt himself being picked up and slung over Erick's shoulder like sack of flour, his head dangling down Erick's back. The beating Roman had given him earlier hadn't seemed to faze him at all. He couldn't see anything but Erick's massive back as Erick walked. After a few minutes it started to get very dark. He thought it because he was blacking out, but air also grew cooler and he could smell earth. A cave or mine shaft perhaps? He had no idea. Whatever it was Bray had given him was messing with his senses. A flickering light appeared in his peripheral vision as Erick kept walking. The light was making him feel sick, and his head throbbed. Time lost all meaning when Erick finally dumped him onto a rough rocky floor. He looked up, squinting through his headache and tried to glare up at the Wyatts. They looked down at him then turned away. The lantern light faded as Bray Wyatt and Erick walked away, leaving Roman alone in impenetrable darkness.

Then the demon came.

_Thanks for reading! ~Belle_


	10. Chapter 10

**Law Dogs**

_Warning: There are Wyatts and violence. _

"I wonder why he hasn't shot us yet." Seth said.

"Who knows? Who cares?" Dean sang as he pulled Seth back and turned the paint to be between them and Harper. Using the horse as a shield, they considered their options. Dean put his revolver back in its holster with an absent-minded twirl.

Seth surveyed the terrain and found it to his liking. There were crevasses where spring run-off had carved deep grooves in the hills. The hill on which Harper was watching them was a little taller than the hill they were currently standing beside, but Seth thought there might be enough boulders and bushes to provide cover to make it around and behind Harper without being seen, _if_ there was a big enough distraction. He hooked his cuffs to his belt and grabbed a tie-down rope from his saddle.

"Dean, I need you to hit me hard enough to knock me down into that ravine. It will block his view. Then you are going to pretend to stomp the crap out of me. Make sure to keep Harper's attention until I can get up behind him."

Grinning his death's head grin, Dean understood Seth's plan immediately.

"Ready?" Seth asked. He pushed the paint back out of the way, ignoring the long-suffering look the animal gave him.

Dean didn't hesitate. He swung quick as a cat at Seth's shoulder and didn't pull his punch at all. Seth barely was able to roll with it. Dean followed up with a stomp that came down hard, about three inches from Seth's face. Giving Dean an annoyed glare, he quickly slithered up the slope of the hill, using the low ridge to conceal himself from Harper's view. Below Dean was going crazy, shouting, taunting and kicking the ground where hopefully Harper thought Seth was laying. The variety of insults Dean could come up with was always amazing.

He hoped Harper bought it.

Even though he was moving as fast as he dared, it took a while to maneuver behind Harper, utilizing every scrap of cover he could find. He drew his revolver and keeping low to the ground made a run up the rest of Harper's hill. Harper must have heard him because he started turning just as Seth slid to a halt, cocking the hammer and pointing it straight at Luke Harper's forehead.

"Give me a reason," he ordered. He stared down at Harper, his eyes hard as diamonds.

With absolutely no fear in his eyes, Harper slowly raised his hands in surrender. Seth saw it was his own rifle that had been pointed at them. He reached over and grabbed it away with a growl. "Put your hands behind your head," he ordered. "Turn around and lay face-first on the ground."

Expressionless, Harper did what he was told.

Dean must have been watching from below because he stopped shouting insults. He mounted up and headed towards Seth, ponying the paint.

Placing a knee on Harper's back to keep him steady, Seth holstered his gun and pulled Harper's hands down and cuffed them behind his back.

"You shouldn't have messed with us," he said. He then proceeded to use the tie-down rope to tie his feet together as well. Dean dismounted as he was finishing the knots.

Seth picked up his rifle, stood up and stepped back. He looked down at the prone figure. It was tempting, so tempting. His frustration with Dean, the gut-tearing fear for Roman and the rage about being sold out all culminated at that moment and he needed a target. Harper was it. He shoved his rifle at Dean and drew his revolver and pointed it at Harper.

"Seth?" Dean asked. "What are you doing?" He didn't sound concerned at all, only mildly curious.

Seth didn't answer. He stared at Harper, willing himself to do it, to shoot the son of a bitch. The man had intended to kill him and his friends. Seth had every right, he even had permission. He drew a deep breath and pulled the hammer back. Dean stood very still, watching with interest.

Seth had killed before and it hadn't bothered him. In a gunfight he killed to defend himself and his friends. But this was entirely different. Killing a man who was unarmed and helpless was murder. If he actually went through with it, then what was the difference between him and the murderers and outlaws he swore to stop?

The answer of course was he wore the shield. He had asked Dean if he still believed in it, and Dean said he had.

Roman believed in it too, and he would have disapproved. He thought about seeing Roman lying in that same helpless position, and right then he knew he wasn't going to kill Harper. Not like that. Luke Harper may deserve it, but Seth was not a murderer. His faith in the shield may be shaken but when it came down to it his answer was yes, he still believed in the shield and what it stood for. He lowered the gun, easing the hammer back and holstered it.

So instead he brought his boot down hard onto Harper's back. It was petty and below the status of a US Deputy Marshal to abuse a prisoner, but Seth was beyond caring at this point. Harper grunted as Seth's boot cracked him hard in the ribs.

Seth went in for another shot, and another. Finally, Dean grabbed his shoulders and spun him away from Harper. Looking him square in the eye, Dean looked like he understood.

"Seth, man, you might want to cool it down a little," he advised.

"That's rich, coming from you," Seth snarked, breathing hard. "Right now I am pissed as hell at you," he jabbed a finger in Dean's chest.

Looking at him closely, Dean stepped back and spread his arms wide. "Go ahead, if it makes you feel better," he said. "Take a shot. I won't fight back," he promised. "Or shoot me, I deserve it."

That was tempting too, but Seth's rage was banked and time was being wasted while they argued. Instead Seth promised, "No, I won't shoot you. But I will hold you down while Roman beats the hell out of you." He watched Dean go a bit pale. Roman could hit _hard_.

Harper's horse was nearby and he went to catch it.

The whip-crack shot of rifle being fired close by had Seth diving for cover. He frantically looked around for Dean, almost expecting him to be laying there dead. When he saw him, Seth realized it had been Dean who had fired the shot. Dean fired a second shot a few seconds later. Seth frowned, trying to see the target. Then he realized:

Dean was shooting a bush.

He was sorely tempted to go back on his word to shoot Dean right then and there for scaring the shit out of him. Seth should have been immune to Dean's insanity by now. They had been friends for years. He knew Dean's impulse control was nonexistent, but when they were out in the middle of nowhere, with Roman in the hands of the Wyatts who had lied about letting Dean and Seth go, and suddenly Dean decides to start randomly shooting the foliage with Seth's rifle; well that was the last straw.

He walked to Dean and slapped down the rifle before he could pull the trigger again. "Seriously, Dean?" wondering how many times a day he asked that question.

"It was a snake!" Dean hissed in agitation. He glanced at where Harper was lying and lowered his voice. "I hate snakes! Scaly, slimy, slithering, disgusting beady-eyed evil little creatures. Gives me nightmares!"

Seth rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. _Patience_ he counseled himself. "It's okay, you killed it." Dean was still staring at the brush where the snake had been curled up, rocking back and forth in manic agitation. "Dean! It's dead!"

"Not dead enough!" Dean raised the rifle again but Seth yanked it out of his hands before he could shoot a third time.

"Dean, focus! You have to calm down." Short sentences, Seth reminded himself. "We need to get to Roman."

Finally dragging his attention away from the bush, Dean nodded and allowed Seth to lead him away from the snake's corpse and back to where the horses stood ground-tied. Seth stuffed his rifle back into the saddle scabbard and mounted up, picking up the reins of Harper's horse to pony it.

"Wait, are we just going to leave him here?" Dean jerked his head at Harper, who lay still on the ground, bleeding but watching them.

"I am not going to haul his ass around," Seth said. "We'll pick him up on our way back. Without his horse he isn't going anywhere."

Dean swore violently before stalking over to his horse.

"What?" Seth demanded.

"If I had known that I would have let the damned snake live so it could bite him!"

Seth laughed, feeling the knot of tension in his stomach ease just a little. Dean mounted up and one final shuddering glance at the bush, kicked his horse into a trot back towards the cabin and Roman.

_Thanks for reading! ~Belle_


	11. Chapter 11

**Law Dogs**

Roman sat alone is absolute darkness. The only thing he could hear was his own breathing. The mine was cold, but it felt good against his hot skin. He was still trying to work his hands free from the cuffs. They were sticky with blood but he refused to give up.

"Well, Deputy Marshal. It appears that you are in a bit of trouble," a familiar voice said nearby, clear as day, making him jump.

Roman looked around but the darkness was so complete that it was pointless. "Who's there?" he asked, his voice echoing slightly as if he were in a chamber. The voice sounded like Mark's, but it was impossible for Mark to be here.

"You _could _call me Mark," the voice suggested.

Roman could feel sweat gathering on his chest, despite the cold. "I could, but I won't."

"Why not?" and suddenly Mark was hunkered down in front of him. Even though there was no light, Roman could see the huge man clearly.

"Because you are not him," Roman snarled. "I take it you are the 'demon' Bray has been going on about? I expected something different."

Mark looked at him, a slight smile on his face. He was dressed in formal Undertaker attire, including the black wide-brimmed hat and long black coat. His red hair curled down to his broad shoulders. "Met many demons have you? You were expecting something with tentacles and gaping maws I suppose? Yeah, no. Not my thing. You see what you need to see. Bray sees his 'sister'. You see someone else. I'm not Bray's demon by the way."

"Then what are you?" Roman asked.

"You tell me," Mark answered.

"I have no fucking clue," Roman admitted.

"If I were a 'demon' could you tell? I've got to admit I do look pretty bad-ass," the hallucination said. It reached out at and tapped him on the forehead, right where Bray had kissed him with bloody lips. "Who is he anyway?"

"A friend," Roman said.

"Ah, well, you sure don't have many of those these days do you?" the apparition said. "Sucks that the ones you did have sold you out, doesn't it? Of course they are dead now, so that's all water under the bridge."

"What's your point?" Roman asked. He didn't want to talk about Seth and Dean. His head was killing him and it was getting hot.

"My point is, why do you keep fighting?" Mark asked. "Your only friends have been slaughtered, oops, take that back, you apparently still have _one_ friend who is still alive." Mark gestured at himself. "Your boss is actively trying to get you killed because you rightly called him a corrupt piece of shit, and no matter how many outlaws you bring to justice, there are always more. Why bother?"

Roman didn't answer and tried to ignore Mark. He jerked in frustration at the cuffs. The apparition stood up and towered over him, its expression of mocking interest disturbingly like Dean's.

"Look at you, still trying to get free. Then what? You are lost in the dark, talking to a hallucination. Even if you do get free, you have no way of knowing which way is the way out of here, and which way goes in deeper. And even if you did manage to get out, you still have the Wyatts to contend with." Mark looked surprised at Roman's hot glare. "What, do you seriously think you can still bring them in all by yourself? You have no back-up, no weapons, no friends and no plan."

Roman still didn't answer. The headache pounded behind his eyes. He gritted his teeth and willed the hallucination to go away.

Mark smiled and said "Stop that, it's not going to work. Where was I? Oh yes." He paced around. "Not to mention you still have to bury the bodies of Seth and Dean. How much will be left of them after the buzzards have had their fill do you suppose? AND then, even if you managed all that, if you do succeed in your assignment then what? You know Hunter will keep sending you out alone after dangerous outlaws until you die a horrible death, like you are doing now by the way. So I ask again, _why bother_?"

Roman growled, "Because I believe in the shield."

"I don't believe you and neither do you. Not anymore." Mark looked sympathetic. "You can't lie to me, kid."

Roman remained stubbornly silent.

"You say that you still believe in the shield? Tell me, what has the shield ever done for you, besides kill your friends and cause you pain? The shield led you straight...here." Mark gestured to the sweeping blackness surrounding them. "You do what you are ordered to, because the oath you took when you put on that shield says you must. Let me tell you a little secret kid, oaths bind you, take away your choices and leave you helpless! Do you think the oath means anything to Hunter? To him, it only means that you won't fight back against him and his cronies as they try to kill you. You know it, and I know it. Oaths are only words, and words only mean what you want them to. Like that little tin star on your chest. So do you really still believe?"

"Yes," Roman hissed, but even he could hear the lack of conviction in his voice.

Mark leaned back, his hand in the air, palm outward in mockery of taking an oath. "I, Roman Reigns, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute all lawful precepts directed to the Marshal of the Montana Territory under the United States, and true returns make, and in all things well and truly, without malice or partiality, perform the duties of the office of Deputy United States Marshal of the Montana Territory, blah, blah, blah. So help me god."

Mark grinned at him, a disturbing sight. "Words, sounds, but in the end, they are nothing."

Gritting his teeth, Roman didn't respond. His head was getting fuzzy and it was hard to think of an argument refuting Mark.

Sighing, the Undertaker crouched down again so he could stare directly into Roman's eyes. "Look, kid. I'm gonna be straight with you. You are in bad trouble. Your body is not reacting well to the crap Wyatt gave you. Right now your body is rejecting it and you will be dead soon. Is this how you want to die: alone, in the dark?"

"If I have to," Roman said. Rivulets of sweat were running down his back as his fever rose.

"Don't be a martyr," Mark snapped, impatient, sounding like Seth. "I can help you, if you let me in," he offered.

"No," Roman answered, succinct.

"Why not?" Mark asked.

"Because you're not real," Roman answered, squinting against the pain and the nausea growing inside of him.

"Are you sure about that?" Mark asked, genuinely curious. "I might be as real as those cuffs you are wearing. But even if I'm not, _what do you have to lose_?"

Roman glared defiantly. He coughed, and tasted blood.

Mark leaned forward, looking almost concerned. "You really don't have much time, kiddo. Sure you don't want my help?" Seeing Roman's stubborn glare, the hallucination stood up and shrugged. "Well, I tried." It turned away and started to fade. "Too bad you won't get the chance to avenge your friends."

Roman froze, his eyes wide, but something betrayed him because Mark turned back to him very slowly. He smiled a predatory smile. "Bingo," he said. "There's the reason you fight, and not because you _believe_. You fight for your friends. Too bad all that's left is for you to avenge them. Do you think you can do that if you are dead too?"

Roman knew damned well he couldn't. His shoulders slumped as Mark crouched down in front of his again, his eyes glowing solid white. "Let me in. I can give you the strength to stay alive. With my help you could kill the Wyatts, and even Hunter. How's that for vengeance?"

Roman had to admit it sounded pretty damned good. "What do I have to do?" he whispered.

"Let. Me. In." Mark insisted tapping Roman's forehead again.

Shuddering, Roman swallowed blood. "Alright."

Mark faded from sight and Roman inhaled deeply, waiting for something to change. Nothing happened. "God damn it!" he growled, feeling like a fool. It had just been only a hallucination after all.

_Don't get discouraged, kid. I said I would help, not make you superman. _Mark's voice whispered in his ear from behind. _Hang in there; I won't let you die, not like this at least._

Roman wasn't sure if he had just gone crazy, but given his options that was the sanest conclusion he could come up with.

_Thanks for reading! ~ Belle_


	12. Chapter 12

**Law Dogs**

The sun was starting to sink into the west, the heat of the day giving way to the cooler evening when Seth and Dean rode up to the Wyatt's shack at a canter. They rode in with their guns out and ready to fight, eyes sweeping the area for targets. The paddock was empty, but Roman's horse was tied to the fence, still wearing its saddle and bridle. It nickered a welcome to them, obviously not happy to be left alone.

There was no sign of the Wyatts or Roman.

Dean spun his sorrel in a circle. "Where are they?" he demanded.

"Check the shack," Seth said as he vaulted from the saddle, letting his and Harper's horses wander over to Roman's.

Dean was first at the door, Seth at his heels. They paused, not sure what would greet them. The best case scenario was an angry but alive Roman Reigns. The worst case they didn't want to think about. Seth nodded to Dean who opened the door, his revolver cocked and ready.

The shack was completely empty. There was nothing, just a dirt floor.

"Goddammit," Dean cursed, stamping the floor.

"Check for tracks, they couldn't have much of a head start, especially if Roman is on foot." Seth ordered.

They paced around the yard looking for tracks. Dean spotted blood on the ground, but there wasn't enough of it to make them worry about Roman's life. Daylight was starting to fade as they finally determined that there were only hoof prints leading away from the site, no footprints.

"So if they left without Roman, he has to be here somewhere around here," Seth concluded but frustrated. He looked at Dean, "Do you think he's trapped or do you think they killed him?"

Shaking his head, Dean said "No, they weren't going to kill him right away. They had 'orders'." He looked disgusted.

"What orders?" Seth asked.

"They were going to make it look like Roman joined them."

It took Seth about two seconds to follow the plan to its logical conclusion. If the law thought that Roman had gone rogue, his reputation would be destroyed and he be hunted down and shot on sight by his Marshal brethren. Seth almost regretting leaving Luke Harper, the man could have provided information about Roman's potential whereabouts. Giving Dean a steady look, Seth growled. "We have to find him."

It was Dean that found the narrow trail leading away from the plateau, winding around the side of the hill and waved Seth over. They followed it in single file. The rocky ground fell away at a steep angle below the trail. The path followed the curve of the hill around and soon the shack and the plateau were out of sight. Finally they came to an opening of a mine in the side of the hill. Despite the abandoned looks of it, there were fresh tracks going both in and out. The mine shaft trailed down into absolute darkness, yawning like pit. There was a lantern just inside the opening. Seth picked it up by the handle. It had been used recently.

Dean swallowed and looked nervous. He really didn't like the idea of going in there, but they had to check. "Do you think there are any snakes in there?" he asked.

Striking a match from his pocket, Seth lit the wick and the lantern flared to life. "If there are any, don't shoot them. We don't need this place to cave in," Seth said.

Dean paled at the thought of not only being crushed by tons of rock, _but with snakes too_. He almost backed out, but Seth was giving him _that_ look. Dean took a deep breath and nodded to indicate he was ready.

They entered the mine shaft slowly, placing each foot carefully, testing the ground. The oppressive dark closed in around them as they made their way deeper into the mine. The weight of the hill above seemed to press down. Dean's mind kept trying to imagine being trapped in here, with no light and no way out. He clamped down on the urge to turn around and get the hell out of there. Only the thought that there was even the slightest chance Roman was down there kept him going; that and the knowledge that Seth would probably shoot him if he did turn back.

For his part, Seth wasn't sure if he should hope that Roman wasn't in there or that he was.

After far too long, the tunnel opened up into a sort of smallish chamber, and Seth raised the lantern to shed more light. A slight movement off to the side caught his eye and he nearly dropped the lantern he was so tense. Drawing his revolver, he stepped forward cautiously, Dean crowding on his heels. Once he got close enough to identify what he was seeing, Seth holstered the gun. "Christ."

Roman Reigns was sitting in the darkness with his legs drawn up and his forehead resting on his knees. His long hair fell forward, obscuring his face. His hands were still cuffed behind his back and Seth could see blood running where Roman had rubbed himself raw trying to break them. Dear god, he was still trying.

"Roman?"

Roman's body jerked at Seth's hoarse call, but he didn't look up or stop trying to break out of the cuffs. Dean and Seth hurried over to him and knelt on either side. Seth reached out with a hand to touch Roman's shoulder. He hesitated when Roman spoke.

"Why are you here?" he asked, not looking up. His voice was raw. "I thought you were my friends." Dean looked away, guilt briefly overcoming his anxiety.

Seth touched the broad shoulder, feeling him flinch. Heat seemed to be rolling off of Roman in waves. "Roman, I'm sorry about leaving you but you know I had no choice."

Shuddering, Roman didn't seem to be listening. "What did I do to you to deserve it?" he asked.

Seth looked over at Dean, who refused to meet his eyes. "Roman, listen to me. You did nothing to deserve it. It was a set-up from the very beginning. They got the drop on Dean."

Roman shook all over, still not looking at him. "You're dead. _Why are you here_?" he snarled, finally raising his head. He looked at a startled Dean dead in the eyes. "Isn't it enough that you sold me out, now you haunt me too?" he demanded. "First Mark, now you guys. LEAVE ME ALONE!"

That _sort of _explained a great deal. "What? No!" Seth denied. "We are still alive, both me and Dean. We came back to rescue you." Seth gently took Roman's chin to turn his head so he could see his face.

Large beads of sweat glistened on Roman's forehead. His eyes were dilated, the gray of his irises completely engulfed by pupil. A black bruise ran from his temple to his neck on one side of his face, highlighting how pale Roman was. Roman shuddered again. That in and of itself told Seth and Dean that something was desperately wrong. Roman was never agitated, never _moving_. He was the calm one, the still one. The one that was coiled power, unleashing for moments, then still once again. He was antithesis of Dean who was always in motion. "They told me you were dead. I heard the rifle shots." he said, having trouble focusing. _Looks like they were wrong_, Mark observed dryly.

Dean slapped his forehead. "No, no, no, Roman. They lied, it was me that was shooting the rifle. There was a snake..." he trailed off at Seth's look of exasperation.

Shaking his head, Roman was saying "I don't believe you. He said he was real too. But then he disappeared and is inside of me. I can't let you in too," he vowed. Roman's teeth gritted as his agitation grew. _Take it easy kid, _Mark advised. _You are not out of the woods yet. Let them help you._

Seth was really getting scared. "Shit, Roman. How hard did they hit you?" He ran his fingers over Roman's scalp, trying to feel a lump that would indicate where the concussion was; his hair was wringing wet with sweat, but he couldn't find a break or bump. But _something _was horribly wrong with Roman. He had never seen his friend so out of it before.

Dean leaned forward to look closer. "It almost looks like they drugged him. I'm not sure what they gave him, but whatever it was, it's making him sicker than a dog," he said as he examined Roman. He glanced around but there was nothing else in the chamber with them. Another tunnel led even further in. Dean shivered and avoided looking at it.

"Roman, don't worry. We're going to take care of you." Seth said. He moved behind Roman and took out his handcuff key. Roman's hands were still twisting and working, trying to get them off. The cuffs were slick with blood and Seth bit his lip as he opened them as gently as possible.

Once freed, Roman's arms dropped to his sides, hanging limp for a few seconds before he slowly wrapped them around his legs. He rested his forehead on his knees again. "It's too late," he sighed. "I already let him in."

"It sounds like he's hallucinating. Whatever it was, it will have to work itself out of his system. Come on, Roman; let's get you out of here before the lantern runs out of oil," Dean said softly. The weight of the earth above him and the dark closing in was bringing him closer to full blown panic, and he needed to get out of there.

Seth stood up and gently took one of Roman's arms, trying to get him to his feet. Dean took the other and together they pulled Roman up. He swayed and would have collapsed if Dean didn't grab him around the waist. Together they headed back to the tunnel, Seth leading the way with the lantern and Dean supporting Roman, who could barely put weight on his left knee. Blood continued to drip from his wrists. "So you guys really are alive? I'm not still hallucinating?" he asked.

"Roman, trust me. We're alive." Dean grunted as he bore the majority of Roman's weight. "Do hallucinations smell like they've been on the road for weeks without a bath?"

_He has a point._

Gritting his teeth, Roman did his best to help Dean get them out of there. He was amazed and glad they were still alive, even if he still wanted to kill Dean. But Mark's presence hovered around him like a blade in the dark.

By the time they got out of the tunnel it was twilight, the glow of the sunset painting the western horizon. They stopped at the entrance to let Dean and Roman rest. Dean leaned against the mine opening with relief, gazing with new appreciation at the clear sky. The moon hadn't risen but the brightest stars blazed down in cold splendor. Bray Wyatt's words came back to him and in a fit of rage turned and punched the side of the mine entrance. "Son of a bitch!"

Seeing Seth and Roman looking at him, he pointed to a familiar constellation setting in the southwest.

Orion

Also known as the Hunter.

_Like what you are reading? Let me know! ~Belle_


	13. Chapter 13

**Law Dogs 13**

_Author's note: Because it can't always be about angst._

They holed up in the Wyatt's shack for the night. Roman was in no shape to travel and they needed a defensible place until they could get back on the same page. Seth wasn't sure that Roman wouldn't kill Dean when he finally shook off the drug's effects, and he wanted to talk to Roman before that happened. He sent Dean off to collect Harper before it got too dark. As Dean rode off on his sorrel, ponying Harper's horse, Seth made Roman drink water and using the light from the lantern, examined Roman's wrists. He winced when he saw the damage. "Let's get these wrapped up," he said. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

As Seth headed out to the corral to get the supplies from his saddlebags, Roman sat with his back propped against the wall of the shack and looked at Mark, eyes dark with exhaustion. Mark appeared to be leaning against the wall opposite, his head tipped forward so the brim of his hat covered his eyes. Roman asked, "Are you a hallucination?"

Mark raised his head and quirked an eyebrow. Its face was younger than the Mark that Roman knew, less lined and no gray hair_. No,_ he answered.

Surprised by the straight answer, Roman asked "Then what are you?"

_Kid, let's just say that for the time being, I'm your best friend._

Roman wanted to ask another question but Seth strode back in. He carried the saddlebags and bedrolls, dumping them unceremoniously on the dirt floor. He positioned the lantern so he could clearly see Roman's wrists. He hissed in sympathy at the bloody, raw flesh. "I took the liberty of using your spare shirt for bandages. You can thank me later," he said. Roman just tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes while Seth cleaned and wrapped his wounds from his palms to mid-forearm, leaving his fingers and thumbs free. "There, that should keep the dirt out."

Roman looked at his hands. He could move his fingers and thumbs just fine, enough to pull a trigger if need be. Blood was already starting to soak through around his wrists, but he could live with it. "Thanks," he said.

Looking closely at his friend, Seth could see he was still very pale and his fever still hovered around the high end. "Is there anywhere else?" he asked gently.

Roman shook his head. There was nothing Seth could do about the bruises, or the fever. Retrieving the bedrolls, Seth made up a place for Roman to lie down. Then he lit a small fire outside the shack to heat some water for a simple stew and to help guide Dean back. Glancing back into the shack, he could see Roman lying on his back with one forearm over his forehead. His eyes were closed but by listening to Roman's breathing he knew his friend was still awake.

"Do you have any idea what they gave you?" he asked quietly, as the fire crackled with enthusiasm. He set a pot of water to boil.

"No, and being that Rowan was sitting on my chest as Bray poured that shit down my throat, I wasn't exactly asking."

Seth shook his head, feeling a bit sick himself. "Why did they do it?"

"I dunno man. Bray was going on about being infested with some demon and that I was going to be its next vessel. Crazy shit." Roman moved his bandaged forearm over his eyes, trying to get past the headache. He was aware that Mark was watching him and ignored that too.

"What about Dean?" Seth asked after a while, aware that Dean would be returning soon. He added some dried beef and herbs to the water and stirred it.

For a long time, Roman didn't answer. Seth thought he might have fallen asleep, but Roman finally spoke. "I don't know. I mean, we argue a lot, but still. I would have never thought he would sell me out for money after everything we've been through."

"It wasn't the money, they got the drop on him," And Seth explained to Roman exactly what had happened. But as he got to the end of the tale, he thought about the series of events and something seemed to be missing, like he couldn't see the entire picture clearly. "But what was weird was they had us in their sights and didn't kill us. I mean I know why they didn't kill you, but me and Dean were expendable, and they just let us go."

"You're right, that is weird." Roman agreed. "Do you think Dean is right that it was Hunter that set us up?"

"On my list of likely candidates, he would be number one, two and three," Seth admitted. "But who knows what Bray was talking about. The stars told him? What does that even mean? Everyone knows that Orion is the Hunter."

"What else could it mean?"

"Not sure. But what we need is proof." Seth stabbed at the fire with a stick.

They were quiet for a while, and Roman drifted off into an uneasy sleep as Seth watched for Dean beside the fire. Crickets chirped around them and a coyote yipped in the distance.

"Hello in the camp!" Dean's voice hailed them as he and Harper rode into view. Harper looked worse for wear but Seth had no sympathy. Dean shot Roman a look, but didn't say anything as he dismounted and gestured for Harper to get down. Roman hadn't woken up at Dean's hail and Seth frowned, concerned.

Dean led the horses away to the paddock to tend while Harper stood looking at Seth, his expression was unreadable. Seth glared at him, but gestured for him to come over to the fire, where he could keep a close eye on him.

Harper walked over, unsteady and sat down with surprising lightness for a man his size. He didn't say anything; neither did Seth. After a bit Dean wandered in from the corral. They sat in silence; Dean would occasionally glare at Harper. In the shack, Roman stirred, restless, but didn't wake up. Seth and Dean ate some of the stew, grudgingly sharing with Harper whom they lets loose temporarily so he could eat. When he was done, the cuffs went right back on.

Dean went to lie down far away from Roman while Seth kept watch.

The next morning Roman woke up feeling a bit better. His wrists were swollen and sore, but the fever had dropped, leaving his head clearer. For a brief second he hoped, but the voice that greeted him sent that crashing back to the ground. "_Glad to see you're feeling better_," Mark said, standing in the doorway, but cast no shadow.

Closing his eyes, he stifled a groan. He rolled over to get to his feet, freezing briefly when he laid eyes on Harper. The man was seated cuffed to a post. He was staring at Roman with unreadable dark eyes. Roman saw Seth sleeping nearby, but no sign of Dean. Wincing as he stood, he was pleased that his knee could take his weight and limped outside.

The sun had just cleared the horizon, casting long shadows across the plateau. The day promised to be clear and warm. He went over to check on his horse, murmuring greetings as he rubbed the animal's ears and neck, much to its delight. The sound of running nearby water caught his attention and he figured now was as good of time as any to clean up. The small stream was about fifty years away from the shack, running through a shallow ravine. It was about three feet across and a foot deep.

Taking his shirt off, Roman dipped it in the cold water, using as a wash cloth and to get the grime from the mine out of it. He could see the bruises on his stomach and ribs in sharp relief against his skin. He removed the makeshift bandages Seth had put on his wrists last night to soak the blood off as well. The water felt so good on his wrists as he let his arms submerge in the crystal clear water, he closed his eyes in relief. He dipped his head in the water, letting it wash away the sweat from his face and hair. After getting as clean as he could, he laid his shirt out on the rocks to dry.

_Behind you, kid._

Drawing his bowie knife from his boot, Roman spun ready to defend himself. Dean backpedaled back in alarm at the knife and expression on Roman's face. "Whoa, easy there. It's just me, although that's probably not reassuring to you anymore..." he trailed off as Roman huffed and sheathed the knife. Dean saw the marks of the abuse Roman had endured on his body and looked away.

Roman shifted position so he could have Dean in his view at all times. "What do you want?" he asked, his hair dripping down his back. He picked up the damp strips of cloth to re-wrap his wrists.

"Momma Seth was worried when he woke up and you were gone," Dean shrugged.

"I'm fine," Roman answered, feeling weird talking to Dean like things were normal. It was clear neither wanted to bring yesterday up. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the water and grasshoppers. Dean took out his revolver, opened the chamber and inspected the sight. It was a nervous habit. In the past it had never bothered Roman, but now he froze, eyeing it with wary suspicion. Dean saw that and put his gun back in the holster.

Shifting uncomfortably, Dean knew Roman would not speak first. "Look, if you want, you can beat the crap out of me," he offered.

That took Roman by surprise. Dean must have really been feeling guilty. To be honest Roman never thought that Dean had any empathy whatsoever. But there he was, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else, but resolutely standing his ground even as he shifted from foot to foot. His eyes never left Roman's.

"You think that'll make us even?" Roman asked. He climbed to his feet and limped up the bank and sat down at the top, letting the sun dry him. He leaned forward with his elbows braced on his knees as he started re-wrapping the clean bandages around his wrists.

"Look, I know what I did was bad," Dean started.

"The worst," Roman agreed.

"They were going to kill me and Seth. I had to make a choice!" Dean said, a bit defensively.

"I know. Seth told me last night," Roman said.

"He did?" Dean blinked. He came up the bank and sat down next to Roman, putting his elbows on his knees in a mirror of Roman.

"Yeah. And I get it." Dean heaved a sigh of relief, but Roman's next words had him tensing up again."That doesn't mean that I won't break your ass in half at some point in the future. And don't think I will ever put my back to you again." Roman said with the slightest hint of a growl. "I trusted you."

Dean considered the past tense of Roman's last words. "Fair enough," he said. Changing the subject he asked, "So what did the Wyatts do to you that had you so loopy?"

Scowling, Roman scuffed at a rock with his boot. "They held me down and poured some shit down my throat," he said. "It tasted worse than that crap you cooked when we were bringing in Jack Swagger, remember that? My god what did you put in it? Dung beetles and swamp muck?"

"It was rabbit, as you well know!" Dean snapped. Roman and Seth had not let him cook since that time.

"No, I'm pretty sure it was swamp muck," Roman contradicted. "Anyway, that crap messed me up pretty bad. I'm still hallucinating."

_Told you I'm not a hallucination,_ Mark said.

"What?" Dean asked. "You seem pretty lucid to me."

"Well right now I'm looking at Mark, standing over there. He's been talking to me off and on since the mine."

Dean peered around. "Wait, you mean Mark the undertaker?"

Nodding, Roman said, "Yep, that's him. I see him plain as day. It's weird to think that right now I am crazier than you."

"Bullshit! No one is crazier than me!" Dean was offended.

"You don't have an invisible person in your head talking to you," Roman commented, looking slyly at Dean, enjoying tweaking him.

"How do you know I don't got an invisible person talking to me? I might have TWO invisible people in my head," Dean claimed.

"No you don't".

"I got ALL the invisible people, alright?" Dean boasted, even more outrageous.

And Roman couldn't hold it in any longer. He broke out laughing, and then clutched his bruised stomach in agony as he laughed harder at Dean's insulted expression. Dean's scowl melted and he grinned back. He extended a fist and after regarding it for a second, Roman touched it with his own.

Back at the camp, Seth looked up when he heard the laughter and sighed with relief. They were back on the same page, ready to kick ass and take names.

_Like what you are reading? Let me know! ~ Belle_


	14. Chapter 14

**Law Dogs**

_Author's note: There is violence and swearing ahead._

Seth was in the paddock getting the horses saddled and ready to go. Harper was nearby, handcuffed to one of the fence posts. He had yet to talk and Seth wondered if he actually could. He had just finished tightening the girth on the Dean's saddle when a gunshot announces the presence of incoming riders. Soon a "Hello in the camp!" drew him out of the paddock, walking towards the riders. He watched with his hand near his revolver but not drawing as three horses and riders trotted into camp. The man in the lead was huge, bigger than Rowan or even Mark. Seth recognized Glenn Jacobs, court bailiff and didn't even bother trying to hide a sneer of contempt.

They had crossed paths with Glenn on occasion; the man was an arrogant and overbearing prick who liked to make prisoners' lives miserable and short. And when there were no prisoners to torment, he would sometimes targeted the deputies. There where whispers of midnight beatings and murders associated with Glenn. It was an unspoken fact Glenn was Hunter's personal hit man. Other deputies tried hard not to be noticed by this man, but Seth, Dean and Roman, cocky in their own right, enjoyed going out of their way to aggravate him at any given opportunity. However, they weren't stupid. The trio always made sure they stuck together and were never alone in his presence.

"Hi Glenn," he greeted with a marked lack of enthusiasm as they rode up to the paddock.

"That's Bailiff Jacobs to you, Deputy Marshal Rollins," he corrected Seth, his voice sounding like crushed gravel, yet his words were precisely enunciated. "Do I need to educate you on respect?" He looked around, taking in the shack and the number of horses in the paddock. "Where's your friends?" he asked, making the word friends sound like an insult.

Seth's eyes narrowed, Glenn was as dangerous as they come and used any perceived slight, no matter how small as an excuse to 'discipline' violently. Still, showing any fear only made him worse. "They're around," he answered, standing as tall as he could. "Why are you here?"

Glenn dismounted. He towered a full eleven inches over Seth. "We're here to check up on you guys. Hunter thought you might need a hand." And by 'we', Glenn gestured to his two companions, both whom Seth recognized only by sight: Billy Gunn and a guy who liked to call himself Road Dogg, neither was a court officer as far as he knew. He had never interacted with them before, but if they were riding with Glenn, it could only mean they were bad news. He ignored them.

Of course what Glenn was saying was total bullshit. They had gone after dangerous outlaws before and Hunter hadn't bothered to send back-up. And even if he did, bailiffs had no business in Marshals' affairs. Suspicious, Seth wasn't going to let on that he thought that, though. "Nope, actually we're good. We have one of the Wyatts in custody already," he gestured at Harper, "and we'll bring in the others today."

"What about the money?" Glenn asked. He stepped within a few feet of Seth who refused to step back.

"We'll find it, don't worry," Seth assured him. His hand was never far away from his gun. He didn't trust Glenn any further than he could throw the man. The other two had dismounted and were flanking Glenn, both with jackal grins on their faces at Seth's show of bravado.

"Be sure that you do. Well, if you don't need our help, I guess we'll be on our way." Glenn made a show of turning around. Then he stopped at looked back at Seth. "Oh! I almost forgot. Did you three stop at the relay station on the way here?" Glenn asked, trying to sound casual but failing. His gaze on Seth was razor sharp.

Something about Glenn's demeanor put Seth's hackles up. His mind painted a new picture of the situation. This picture was _not_ the Wyatts leaving the bloody badge as a taunt. No, this picture consisted of the bloody badge with Roman's name on it left as _incriminating evidence_. Cold sweat broke out across his back at the thought of Glenn finding it. Then another thought flashed across his mind. What if it _wasn't_ the Wyatts that had killed the caretaker?

With his poker face in place he was just opening his mouth to deny it when Glenn attention was drawn by Dean and Roman walking side by side towards them from the direction of the stream. Roman's wet shirt clung to him and his hair was slicked back with water. He looked much better than last night. Dean must have cleaned up too, because his hair was dripping wet over his forehead into his eyes.

Glenn's expression of superior contempt changed to sheer disgust. "Still can't keep your hands off each other?" he asked. He refused to believe that friends could have a close relationship without it involving sex. Especially since the three of them always hung out together and backed each other up around Glenn, in his mind that meant they were 'fags'.

Roman scowled but Dean swaggered right up into Glenn's face, looking up at him through mocking eyes and a smug grin. "Hmm..For someone who is supposedly disgusted by gays, Glenn," he drawled each letter of the name, "You sure do spend a lot of time thinking about it. Jealous?" He was goading Glenn like a mongoose with a cobra.

Face dark with rage, Glenn glared at Dean. Roman rubbed his bandaged wrist as he made a fist against his chest, wanting nothing more than to punch Glenn's face. But Glenn was an officer of the court. Laying a hand on him would be a felony. Plus, Billy and Road Dogg _Christ what a stupid name _he thought, were looking like they were aching for a fight. Roman wasn't sure he was up for brawl just yet, but he wasn't going to let Glenn bully them either. He could feel Mark's presence hovering close right over his shoulder.

_Kid, he's a demon._ Mark said.

"What?" Roman asked aloud.

_He's a demon._ Mark repeated patiently. _Look closely and you can see it._

Before, Glenn had always looked human, albeit giant. But now Roman could see underneath Glenn's human skin were red scales, a twisted deformity and pure hate. He froze, telling himself that he had to be hallucinating again. Maybe he hadn't completely shaken off the drug's effects. There was no place for _that _in the rational world. He closed his eyes to shut out the wrongness of what he was seeing.

_Look, kid, I told you, you are not hallucinating so stop fighting me. A demon is standing in front of you. This one is a bad one if he is who I think it is. _Mark sounded exasperated.

Seth shot Roman a worried look. He had gone pale again and was talking to himself. Seth knew if Glenn noticed that Roman was weak, they would all be in trouble. Roman's strength had been a major deterrent of Glenn's abuse in the past. Luckily, Dean was still goading Glenn, much to Billy and Road Dogg's cruel amusement, keeping their attention off of Roman for now. Seth knew he had to take control of the situation before things got completely out of hand. He stepped between Dean and Glenn, bringing the focus back to himself. "Look, Glenn. You know Hunter can count on us to bring in the Wyatts and recover the money. After all, we will always do what's best for business." He deliberately used Hunter's name and favorite phrases, trying to determine Glenn's reaction. If Hunter _had_ sent him then they were in trouble. If Hunter hadn't, then Glenn was out here without orders and might back down from a full-blown confrontation.

Dean must have caught on. "That's right, Glenn. We're just doing _our jobs._ You know, bringing in bad guys." he leaned in with a sneer of arrogance that Glenn really seemed to hate. "What's your job again?"

Seth elbowed him. Antagonizing Glenn was not making them go away any faster. Dean stepped back giving Glenn a vicious look.

Roman saw Seth step forward towards that _thing _that was Glenn, within arm's reach. His mind still struggled to accept what he was seeing, but he refused to let Seth take a beating. Knowing that Seth was in terrible danger, he started to reach for his knife.

_You can't hurt him with that._

"Then how?" Roman growled under his breath. Seth was still trying to reason with Glenn, to get him and his posse to leave peacefully when suddenly Glenn reached out and grabbed Seth by the throat, lifting him off his feet. Rage flooded through Roman. He tried to move to help Seth, to kill Glenn, but suddenly Mark put a hand on his shoulder and he was unable to move a muscle.

_Do you trust me?_

"No!" Roman shouted, his rage now directed at Mark for preventing him from helping Seth. 

_Too bad, cause if you did, this wouldn't hurt quite so much._ And Roman felt Mark step forward _into_ him. And he wasn't kidding; it _hurt_ like nothing he had ever felt before.

Seth was furious that Glenn had put his hands on him. He pulled at the iron grip around his neck in vain. Dean lunged forward, prompting Billy and Road Dogg to reach for their guns. The situation had gone to straight to hell, and there was no turning back now. Someone was going to die.

"_KANE!"_ growled a voice that seemed to spit hell and ghosts and cobwebs into their ears. The horses pinned their ears back and tossed their heads, pawing the ground in agitation. Still caught in Glenn's grip, Seth tried to look around, wondering what made that terrible noise. For a second, everyone froze and then all of them realized it was Roman that spoke. Roman's voice was usually a smooth baritone, not this crawling, grinding sound. His eyes had gone from gray the pale green.

Glenn stared at Roman, dropping Seth to the ground, who scrambled away rubbing his throat. "What did you call me?" Glenn asked almost cautiously.

"_Isn't that your name?"_ Roman stepped forward right into Glenn's personal space, "_Kane."_ He was only two inches taller than Seth, but at that moment he was able to easily look Kane dead in the eyes. His weight was distributed evenly over the balls of his feet as he raised his chin in a familiar gesture of defiance. The two men stared at each other, not noticing anyone else. Dean and Seth quickly positioned themselves to either side of Roman, Road Dogg and Billy were slightly behind Glenn.

The arrogant superiority was erased from Glenn's face, replaced by uncertainty. He ignored Dean and Seth, focusing his eyes on solely Roman, his hand on the butt of his gun. "Who are you?" he asked. Seth and Dean glanced at Roman in confusion. Glenn had tangled with Roman in the past, but now he was acting like he was seeing him for the first time.

Still cuffed to the fence, unnoticed by them, Harper looked terrified.

"_Leave,"_ Roman ordered. The horses whinnied in terror. Seth had a hard time not clamping his hands over his ears.

Kane tried to show bravado, "Do you know who I am?" he demanded.

"_You're the Devil's favorite demon. Too bad I killed the Devil on my way out." _Roman growled as he stood stock still, his hands near the two revolvers strapped to his thighs in a classic crossed gunfighter rig. "_And too bad for you that I destroy any demon that gets in my way,"_ Roman said, each word a deliberate warning.

Kane shook his head, but backed away, his hands at his sides. Looking a bit uncertain themselves, Billy and Road Dogg followed his example. No one had ever seen Glenn _scared _before. After a few steps, Kane seemed to recover his anger and outrage. "Do you really think you can kill me?"

Roman didn't answer and his hands didn't move. At his shoulders, Seth and Dean glared at Kane and his crew, their hands on their revolvers.

Kane must have realized that he was up against something he couldn't threaten or intimidate. Holding his hands up in surrender, "Okay, we're leaving," he announced. He made to get back on his horse, when he abruptly turned back. "Don't think this is over yet," he threatened.

Roman drew. The motion was so fast; they only saw the blur. The two guns were in his hands and aimed at Glenn. _"Leave." _He took a single step towards Kane and his two enforcers.

Glenn turned white and mounted up, the other two scrambling onto their mounts as Glenn, or Kane as he was known as in the circles of hell, set his spurs into the sides of his mount and galloped away.

Roman didn't move until they were out of sight. Then he lowered the revolvers and holstered them.

"Holy shit! Are those Colt Walkers?" Dean asked, both jealous and amazed. He knew revolvers and Colt Walkers were most powerful revolver ever made, not to mention those guns were very rare. He knew for a fact that Roman didn't own that pair.

"Those guns," Harper muttered to himself, his eyes wild.

"Roman?" Seth asked quietly, his eyes huge with the events that had taken place. He immediately regretting getting Roman's attention. Roman turned and looked at him, his face stony and expressionless. Then his eyes returned to their usual gray. The Colts disappeared as if they had never existed and he collapsed to his hands and knees and puked his guts out.

_Author's note: You might have noticed the switch from Adventure to Supernatural. When I first started Law Dogs, it was supposed to be a straight-up western, a sort of funhouse mirror of events of WWE as they happened, so to speak. But the WWE Universe is comfortable with the existence of demons, walking dead men and other supernatural elements. And now it seems they are working themselves into the story. If that bothers you, I apologize._

_Like what you are reading? Please let me know! ~ Belle_


	15. Chapter 15

**Law Dogs**

After Roman had finished emptying his stomach, he slowly climbed to his feet, feeling dazed. His entire body ached badly, but it wasn't a mere physical ache. This pain was lodged so deep inside that it felt like it had permanently become a part of his being. He staggered over to the paddock and leaned against the fence, trying to get a handle on what had just happened. He was too out of it to see the looks of amazement and confusion on Seth and Dean's faces.

For a few seconds nobody moved. Then Dean recovered and voiced what they were all thinking. "What the _fuck_ was that?" he shouted.

"You saw?" Roman asked, his voice raw but thankfully normal. He turned around to face them, but his legs gave out and he sank back to the ground, leaning against a fence post. He swept his hair out of his face and laced his fingers behind his head, trying to get a handle on the pain pounding through him.

"Uh.._YEAH_!" Dean said as if that was about the dumbest thing he'd heard in weeks. "Where the hell did you get Colt Walkers, and where the fuck did they go?"

Mark crouched down in front of him, looking at him critically. _"Handling the Colts puts a hell of a bruise on a mortal's soul." _he said, not without sympathy. _"Give it a bit, it will fade. It will help if I remove my presence for a while." _He stood up and walked from sight.

"They're not mine. They belong to Mark," Roman said. He rubbed at his forehead. "He brought them out, and took them away."

Seth was baffled and angry. "Mark? Who the fuck is Mark?" He hated not knowing what was going on.

"Roman's invisible friend," Dean said, crouching down exactly where Mark had been. He peered into Roman's eyes. "Mark? If you can hear me, we need answers," he said. He reached out to touch Roman's face, trying to see into his eyes.

"He's gone, Dean." Roman said. It was true, he couldn't feel Mark's presence hovering around him anymore, but at least the soul ache was fading too.

Really irritated that everyone but him seemed to know what was going on, Seth turned on Harper, "You! Start talking!" he ordered. "What the hell did your pals do to him?" He gestured at Roman.

Eyes wide, Harper stared at him, but his face betrayed nothing. His gray streaked hair and beard that hadn't seen a comb or scissors in a coon's age and sweat-stained clothes made him look like the quintessential hill person. But there was no doubt the man was incredible dangerous.

Dean stood up, moving to stand beside Seth. "They gave him something that made him hallucinate, except that it's not a hallucination, is it?" he growled. He pulled out his revolver, making a show of checking the chamber and then pointed it at Harper's knee. "What was it?"

Luke Harper had been many things during his lifetime: a husband to a dead wife; a poor farmer from Snake Bight, Florida; a soldier in the Confederate army; and now a devoted follower of Bray Wyatt. But he had never been a fool. He knew the two Marshals would kill him, slowly, if he didn't talk. "I don't know," Harper whispered, his southern accent thick. "It's called Abigail's blood!" he said quickly as Seth took a menacing step forward. "But I do not know what it is, only that it make a body open to possession."

"Possession," Dean asked. "Like, as in by demons?"

Spooky eyes fixed on Roman, Harper nodded. "Mr. Wyatt's demon, Abigail, only. The blood is how she recruits followers. By gaining more vessels, she gains strength."

"Did you drink this blood?" Seth looked disgusted.

"I have but tasted it. And as such, I can feel Abigail. She takes my strength, which I give willingly. But she is not in me. One must drink enough to die to be born into Abigail's grace." He looked enraptured and the duo edged away from the weirdness.

"Okay," Dean raised his eyebrows and gave an exaggerated shiver.

"So wait, are we taking this demon talk seriously?" Seth asked, still trying to come to grips with the situation.

"You actually just talked to one," Roman said dryly. "Before he turned tail and ran for the hills."

"Glenn?" Dean asked. "Yeah, I could see that. I suppose that answers most of the questions about his sunny disposition and sense of compassion."

"His real name is Kane," Roman confirmed.

"Can all demons summon weapons?" Dean asked, suddenly more interested in possession. He had coveted those Colt Walkers since the day he saw the write-up in an old magazine. Only one thousand had ever been produced. His soul was almost worth the price for getting a pair. They looked at Harper.

Shaking his head, Harper looked scared instead of scary. "No. None of them can do that, not even Abigail herself."

"Then how did Roman's demon, what's his name? Mark? do it?" Seth wanted to know, still feeling weird that they were treating this like it was real.

"Mark's not a demon," Roman said. They looked at him like he was crazy, not that he could blame them. "He's not," he said, a bit defensively.

"And you know this how?" Seth asked, completely skeptical.

"I saw some of his memories," Roman answered, not wanting to tell elaborate. When Mark had stepped into him, he saw into some of Mark's memories and had to resist the urge to vomit again. "He was once a man, a soldier who fought in the Mexican War." He didn't want to think about the atrocities Mark had both witnessed and committed. Nor did he want to think about the unparalleled cold hatred Mark harbored since he discovered his family had been massacred while he was away. And his mind instinctively shied away from Mark's memories of his time in hell as punishment for killing an innocent while gunning down a gang of thugs on his quest for vengeance. That was the fast track to screaming madness.

"Then what the hell is he now?" Seth asked, having never felt so completely out of his depth as he was now. "Is he a spirit?"

Roman shrugged. "No idea," he confessed. "He isn't exactly a sharing type." Feeling better by the minute, he climbed to his feet, testing his balance. The soul ache had faded to the background where it could be comfortably ignored. "We should get going, before Glenn comes back. I don't think I'm up for letting Mark take over again right now," he admitted.

They all mounted up. Dean pulled his revolver and pointed it at Harper. "After you," he gallantly invited. Harper gave him an unreadable look, kicked his horse into a jog and they set out, heading further back into the hills, towards the dark mountains that rose behind them.

They traveled throughout the day, hoping to both catch up to the Wyatts and put as much distance between themselves and Glenn as possible. The going was rough, most of the day they had to pick their way through scrub brush and rock, but as they climbed higher into the mountains, pine trees began to take control of the landscape. Limestone cliffs soared high above, casting deep shadows around them.

Seth rode beside Roman. Something Harper had said was bothering him but wasn't sure how to bring up the subject. Finally he decided to just ask. "What did the stuff that Wyatt gave you really do to you?"

Grimacing, Roman glanced at Seth before looking ahead to where Dean and Harper rode. He could hear Dean talking at Harper, but not his exact words. "It made me sick. You saw how I was. At the time I thought that stuff was making me hallucinate," Roman said honestly.

"I just can't figure this out." Seth said, still frustrated. "If what Harper said is true, the blood they forced on you should have killed your soul and let a demon in, but it didn't. You're still you. Why?"

Roman looked uncomfortable. "It was Mark. He told me he would keep me alive if I let him in. I didn't want to die when I still had things to do, so I agreed." Seeing the look Seth was giving him, Roman felt a flash of irritation but squelched it. "I _thought_ he was a hallucination," he defended himself.

"Guess you were wrong," Seth observed, but with a touch of sympathy. Roman wasn't to blame. None of them had ever encountered anything like this before and they had no way of preparing for it.

That night they found a defensible place to camp, next to a loud-running creek. Roman tended the horses while Seth and Dean set up camp and secured Harper. After they ate, Seth jerked his head at Dean and Roman and they walked down to the stream to where the noise of the running water would prevent Harper from overhearing their conversation.

"What the fuck are we going to do?" Dean demanded, looking at Seth. "You're the one with the plans. We have no idea what we are walking into."

"We came here to kill the Wyatts." Seth said, looking steadily into Dean's eyes. "And that's what we're going to do."

"Yeah, I got that part. But how?" Dean paced back and forth. "Roman said his knife couldn't kill Glenn. And if that's the case I doubt bullets could either."

Seth looked at Roman. "What about those Colt Walkers? Glenn looked terrified when you drew on him."

"Seth, man, that was Mark, not me," Roman said. He still couldn't feel Mark, but had no doubt he was still around.

"So how about we let Mark deal with them," Dean suggested.

"I think that's why he's here," Roman said slowly, thinking about what he had seen in Mark's memories. Mark was on a specific mission, and Roman was pretty sure it had something to do with the Wyatts. But what exactly that mission was, he didn't know. And he also had an uneasy feeling that Mark hadn't told him everything.

"Great, that's settled. We get Roman to the Wyatt camp, turn Mark loose on them with his wicked-assed Colt Walkers, then we go home." Dean clapped his hands together in finality. Seth shot a look at Roman, unhappy at making him bear the brunt of the confrontation, but they had no choice. He knew they would have to watch Roman's back carefully to ensure he didn't get hurt again.

There really wasn't much more to discuss after that. Dean took the usual first watch, and Seth and Roman settled down near the fire. Seth dropped off rather quickly, but sleep eluded Roman as he tossed and turned. Finally he gave up and went over to poke at the fire. Harper was still awake, watching him with those wide, spooky eyes.

"Did you pray while your spirit was dying?" Harper asked, his voice a creepy whisper.

Looking away, Roman's jaw muscles jumped as he tried to control his anger at the intrusiveness of the question. He didn't answer. It was none of Harper's business what had happened down in the mine.

"You, you didn't want to die," Harper said not loud enough to wake Seth or draw Dean's attention. "You fought to live. You had a reason. Who did you pray to?"

"Nobody," Roman snapped, glaring at Harper before he looked away again, wishing Harper would just shut up.

Blessedly, Harper did not talk again. But he did not take his disturbing gaze off Roman.

When it was Roman's turn at watch, he made his way out of the camp so he could think in peace. The stars shone down, bright against the velvet blackness. The stream chattered in its bed. Roman sat down with his back to a tree. For a while it was still, but then he shifted uneasily as he felt Mark's presence once more.

_Feeling better kid?_

Roman looked up at Mark who was standing nearby, silhouetted against the stars. The man seemed as real as the tree Roman was leaning against. "What are you, really?" he asked.

_You saw exactly what I am. I'm a killer. _

"But you saved me," he said.

_Don't ever thank me for that. There are rules under which we all must function. Sometimes luck plays a part, sometimes design, but in the end it mostly comes down to opportunity. You are no more special than any other being on this planet. The only difference is you were in the right place at the right time; I merely took advantage of the situation. Now you are just as trapped by our agreement to kill the Wyatts as you were in that mine._

He wasn't comforted by at all Mark's words but he had no issue with the outcome. But he knew there was something more that Mark wasn't telling him, something of terrible importance. "Will the Colt Walkers really kill them?"

He didn't think Mark was going to answer but as he watched he could see the outline of Mark's hat shift as he turned to look at him.

_Kid, the Angel of Death himself melted his sword down to make those guns. They have killed both mortal and immortal beyond counting. They will stop Abigail and her followers. _

"So why do you need me?" Roman asked.

He could see Mark's eyes gleaming white in the dark, pale as starlight. As he listened to the reply, he go the feeling that Mark was choosing his words very carefully. _When I am given a task in your world, I must work through a willing mortal. When it comes time to fire the guns, it will be you that pulls the triggers. Those are the rules._

That sounded ominous. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

_Does it matter? You cannot back out._

"Just be straight with me," Roman said, impatient.

_The Angel of Death's sword was never meant to be wielded by a mortal._ Mark looked back up at the stars and laid out exactly what was going to happen when he pulled the triggers of those guns. Roman listened, his face stony.

_Do you regret letting me in?_

He thought about Seth and Dean, and what would have happened to them when they confronted the Wyatts had he not made the agreement. He weighed that thought against the near future held in store for him. There was no contest. "No," was his answer.

_Thanks for reading! ~Belle_


	16. Chapter 16

**Law Dogs**

_Happy Wrestlemania XXX! Please note there is violence and in this chapter._

After Roman had relieved him on watch, Seth had gone back to the camp and tried to settle down to get some sleep, but his mind kept worrying over the situation like a dog with a bone. Finding out that your entire worldview was wrong was going to take some mental adjustment, and he just couldn't shake the feeling there was more going on than he knew. He hated that. Dean and Roman might be able to roll with situations without complete understanding, but Seth had always needed to know. He sat by the fire, chewing his lip, deep in thought. Nearby Harper was still awake and staring him with those wide spooky eyes, which was irritating. Finally he snapped, "What?" keeping his voice low so as not to wake Dean.

"You should kill your friend, Deputy Marshal," he advised with an earnestness that gave Seth the creeps, "before it's too late."

Scowling, Seth demanded, "Too late for what?"

"You do not know what is about to be unleashed," Harper whispered. "The one that now walks among us."

"Then why don't you enlighten me?" Seth invited, forcing himself to be patient. If Harper knew anything about Roman's friend, well, it was still more than Seth at the moment. The stars wheeled overhead in numbers beyond counting, the Milky Way was clearly visible across the sky.

"Your friend has called into this world something so terrible that Hell itself spit it back. Those damned eyes; they have stared down the devil himself. His unquenchable rage froze the very fires of hell!_" _Harper whimpered.

"Who is he?" Seth asked, glancing at Dean's sleeping form in silent apology for talking. But Dean slept on, dead to the world.

The fire popped and a burning twig settled deeper into the glowing embers. "I will not say his name here," Harper finally answered, "for to speak it out loud is to draw his attention. But I have seen him before, stalking the blood-soaked battlefields at Antietam as he gathered the thousands of dying souls of the slaughtered soldiers. I can never forget the sound of those screams!" Harper's voice rose at the end, making Seth wince. He shushed the man. Harper subsided with a sob.

"You fought in the war?" Seth asked quietly. That explained some of Harper's odd behavior. Seth had been too young to enlist before the end of the War Between the States, but he had run across men who had fought on both sides and they all carried scars, physically and mentally. "Why didn't you go home? What brought you all the way out here?" He tried to change the subject as it was obvious that the man was terrified of the entity Roman had called 'Mark'. And after what Harper had just said, Seth was a little nervous about him too.

"The war left us as broken men. Everything we fought and died for was lost to us: our homes, our families and our honor. We had nothing left, not even ourselves. Bray took the tattered remnants of our souls and reassembled them into a whole once more," Harper whispered, staring now into the banked fire. "He leads us to the promised land, where she dwells in love and power."

"But, you know she's a demon." Seth argued. "Why would you follow her?"

"She will slay the lie that is this world." Harper answered, full of righteous conviction. "If you had witnessed the hell I have seen, then you would come to understand that this world deserves to burn!" Harper rocked back and forth as he sang under his breath, "When the last light warms the rocks; And the rattlesnakes unfold; Mountain cats will come to drag away your bones."

There was really nothing else to say; obviously what Harper had experienced during the war had left him unbalanced. Seth just shook his head and went to lie down next to Dean. Eventually he fell into an uneasy doze.

The next morning they were getting ready to head out. The sun was up but not high enough to shine directly into the canyon. The camp had been packed up, the horses saddled and Dean was finishing his coffee. Both Seth and Roman looked like they needed a few more hours of sleep. Seth was out of sight, having gone down stream a ways to take a look around while they waited for Dean. The towering pines were whispering in the cool breeze and the world was peaceful. Birds sang high in the trees. He sat down on a fallen log to think. His yawn was cut off abruptly when he heard the shot and felt the bullet clip him in the shoulder. He cried out in pain, clutching the wound as he dropped to the ground and rolled behind the log. He covered his head with his arms as more bullets sprayed splinters and wood chips around him. It sounded like they were firing from behind the trees on other side of the stream. He pulled his revolver, feeling hot blood sheeting down his arm. He cursed through gritted teeth as he realized that they had him effectively pinned down.

"Seth?" he heard Dean call out from the campsite but he didn't answer. He didn't want the shooters to know that he was still alive and able to return fire. He hoped they would be overconfident, allowing him a clear shot when an opportunity presented itself.

Roman and Dean were up at the campsite when they heard the shots. They hit the ground simultaneously, instinctively rolling away from each other. The ground tied horses jumped but didn't run off. Roman grabbed his shotgun and Dean pulled his revolvers, but they didn't have a target in sight. Then Dean saw a puff of smoke from a fired gun further downstream, out of the effective range of his revolvers. Annoyed, he looked around and saw Seth's horse standing nearby, nervously pawing at the ground; his rifle in the saddle scabbard. Deciding it was worth the risk, he fired once in the general direction of the smoke and slithered backwards towards the paint. He heard shots from their side of the stream, and smiled a death's head smile: Seth was alive and fighting. The horse snorted in alarm but Dean was able to grab the rifle without getting shot, but it was a close call as he felt the wind from one of the bullets flying by his ear.

Roman lay flat on his stomach, using a rise in the ground in front of him as cover. He squinted down the barrel of his shotgun, trying to locate the shooters. Mark stood nearby, clad in his usual long black coat and wide-brimmed black hat, not saying anything. He was a solid, steadying presence in Roman's mind.

A small rock hit him in the back of the head and Roman looked around, scowling at Dean.

Dean signaled he would try to get behind the shooters; Roman signaled back that he would return fire to keep their attention on him. Dean nodded gave him a thumbs up, and on his knees and elbows scrambled away back into the trees. Roman turned his attention back to where the shots were coming from.

"Any idea who it is?" he asked Mark.

_Looks like it's your pal Glenn and his buddies._

Roman swore under his breath and fired the shotgun again, ducking as bullets splashed against the dirt in front of him. "Can we kill him without the Walkers?" he asked, aware that Mark turned to look at him.

_No, and if you do enough damage to his host's body, Kane will just jump to the nearest non demon-infested human._

"His men?" Roman asked, swallowing against the fear that rose from his stomach. He was not a coward, but he knew what consequences he was facing. He fired the shotgun, and reloaded.

_Or your friends. It won't matter to him._

"What happens to them?" Roman asked, his voice sounded strange even to himself.

_The host's mind and soul are destroyed. The body is all the demon cares about._

"Shit," Roman muttered. He could handle killing Glenn and the other two. He could _not_ handle killing Seth or Dean. "Alright, got it." A chilling thought hit him and he hesitated.

Mark knew what he was thinking. _Don't worry kid, you're not an option for him._ He grinned and that was probably the single most disturbing sight Roman had ever witnessed.

He was not really reassured by what Mark said, but it would have to do. He heard Seth's rifle fire from the other side of the stream. Damn, he needed to tell Dean to not shoot Glenn. He scrambled to his feet and took off running after Dean, limping slightly on his sore knee but he didn't let that slow him down. Roman flinched when he heard the buzzing of a bullet flying by his head. Glenn and his buddies were serious about killing them. He jumped as far as he could across the stream landing a little over half way. The water was up to his knees and cold from the ice melt up in the mountains that fed the stream. He dove for the bank just as he heard Dean fire again. "Dean!" he shouted. He could see Dean ahead of him behind the trunk of a tall pine tree, aiming the rifle at a point downstream. The carpet of pine needles softened his steps.

Scowling, Dean looked up as Roman hit the ground behind a tree near his. "What?" he demanded.

"Did you kill any of them yet?" Roman panted from his all-out sprint to Dean's location.

"Not sure, I know I tagged one of them, but until we see a body, who can say?" Dean shrugged. "I thought I saw Glenn earlier, but couldn't draw a bead on him. Too bad cause I would love to take that son of a bitch out."

Relieved, Roman told Dean, "it's okay if you killed Road Dogg and Billy, but _you _can't shoot Glenn! Leave him to me."

Glancing at Roman, he nodded and reloaded the rifle. They hear an exchange of bullets further downstream.

"How many bullets did Seth have on him?" Roman asked.

"He has his gun belt on, so I imagine he's good to go for a long fight. If he can take out Road Dogg, it's the three of us on Glenn."

Roman couldn't risk it. If things went pear-shaped, he needed to be able to kill Glenn without worrying about his friends getting caught in the crossfire. "Change of plan. You are going to get Seth and get out of here."

"_What?_" Dean answered. "Fuck that!" He gave Roman a vicious look, his eyes hot with rage, beyond pissed that Roman would even suggest that they leave him behind, again. Then he deliberately turned his back to Roman and aimed the rifle for another shot. They both ducked as bullets smashed into the tree trunks they were using as cover. Dean waited a few seconds before firing again, and was rewarded with a shout of pain.

Roman could see Dean had no intention of doing as he was asked and gritted his teeth in frustration. He dove to Dean's tree and grabbed the rifle out of Dean's hands, spinning Dean around to face him. "Dean, _listen to me!_ If you shoot Glenn, then Kane will be looking for a new host, which could be any nearby human. That includes you and Seth. I will not let the two of you take that risk," he snarled.

"So you want us just to leave you here alone to face god-knows-what by yourself again, Roman? Is that what I'm hearing?" Dean raged back. "You think because I did it once, _because I didn't have a choice_, that I'll be okay with doing it again? Fuck you, Roman! I'm staying."

"If Kane grabs you or Seth, what do you think will happen? Do you think I want to have to kill Seth? To kill _you_? Yeah I know we have been through some shit lately but the two of you are still my best friends and I will _not_ let Kane destroy you." Seeing Dean's look of manic determination, he grabbed the back of Dean's neck and pressed their foreheads together, willing Dean to understand. "_Either of you._"

Glaring, Dean shoved Roman a step back and asked, "Yeah? Well what about you? Won't Kane…" he trailed off, realizing, "Of course: Mark," he said bitterly. He slammed a fist into the tree trunk in sheer frustration at the situation. "I hate this."

"What's done is done, Dean," Roman softly, suddenly feeling tired. "It's our best chance to kill Glenn for good. Mark will protect me." He swept his hair back out of his face. "But you two can't be in the area. Go get Seth and get out of here," Roman instructed, handing the rifle back to Dean and picking up his shotgun. "When you have him and are on your way out, give a shot with that" he nodded at the rifle, "to let me know you're clear."

"Yeah, I'll do that. But I don't thinkSeth is going to like it any more than I do." Dean thought about trying to persuade Seth that they had to leave Roman alone to deal with this, and shuddered. He didn't like his chances and didn't think Seth would appreciate being tied up and flung on his horse again. Another bullet buzzed by and Dean snapped off an answering shot, hearing a satisfying scream of pain, then silence. "I think that was Billy," he reported. "I don't think he's getting up again."

Roman smirked. "Good. Okay, get going. I'll cover you."

Dean looked at Roman and extended his fist. "How will we know when it's done?" he asked.

Ignoring the hand, Roman swept Dean up into a hug and said, "You'll know, once you hear it."

Dean didn't like the weird feeling he was getting. Roman was not one for physical contact usually. Oh he had occasionally put an arm around his shoulder, but this was different. It was almost like Roman was …No. He wouldn't allow himself to think that. Dean briefly returned the hug and stepped back. They touched fists, and then Dean turned and took off. There were no bullets in his wake, so he must have taken care of Billy.

Roman waited until Dean was out of sight, checking the load of the shotgun. Then he pressed his back against the tree trunk, taking a deep breath and began sprinting from tree to tree. He saw a still form on the ground and stopped long enough to verify that Billy wasn't getting up ever again. There were shots still being fired in the trees up ahead but not in his direction. He hoped Seth was okay.

He slipped from tree to tree towards the sound of the gunfire, trying to pinpoint Glenn and Road Dogg's location. There was another scream off to the right and he saw Road Dogg collapse on the ground, blood pouring from his neck. Glenn burst into view through the pine trees, looking around wildly and snarling like a rabid animal when he saw Road Dogg's corpse. He checked the load in his revolver and started toward the stream. He didn't see Roman running up behind him, but something must have alerted him because he turned just as Roman speared him through the midsection. Glenn went down hard with Roman on top.

Sitting up, Roman started punching Glenn in the face as hard as he could. Not letting up for a second, he shouted, "Dean, you guys get out of here _now_!"

Glenn must have caught on to what was going on because he sneered through bloody lips at Roman. "Do you think you can save them?" he leered. "You can't kill me, and as payment I am going to take one of them, and after I'm done with him, I'll get the other one." He heaved Roman off and rolled to his feet. He looked around and spotted his revolver in the dirt.

Enraged, Roman ran at him to tackle him again, but Glenn caught him with a huge hand around his neck, squeezing off his air. Roman grabbed his wrists and used his own considerable strength to pry Glenn's hand off his neck and follow it up with a kick to the stomach. Glenn doubled over and Roman punched him in the face again. Glenn fell to the ground. He lay there, laughing.

Roman glared, "What's so funny?" But then he finally, _finally_ heard the sound he had been waiting for: the distinctive whip-crack report of the rifle off in the distance.

Briefly distracted by the shot, he almost missed Glenn, moving faster than a man his size should be able to, reaching out to grab his revolver. He pointed it at Roman and fired.

Both instinct and Mark warned Roman to move, but the bullet still clipped him in the side. He fell to the ground gasping as white hot pain splashed through his body.

_Idiot!_

Ignoring Mark, Roman spotted his shotgun nearby and dove for it. Glenn scrambled to his feet and fired again, but he didn't take the time to aim properly and missed. Roman snagged the shotgun and while still on one knee, pointed it in Glenn's direction and pulled the trigger. One advantage of shotguns over revolvers is that shotguns didn't generally need precision; just point it in the direction of something that needed to die and pull the trigger. Glenn screamed as the buckshot tore through his lower body. Roman pulled the trigger again. He stopped to eject the spent shells and reload. He fired twice more at Glenn, and then lowered the shotgun to inspect the damage.

Glenn lay in a pool of blood and gore. His legs were shredded and Roman could see the glistening intestines through holes in Glenn's stomach. He felt sick. He touched his side and it was slick with blood.

_You ready to end this, kid?_

He looked hard at Mark, almost glaring. "Guess I have no choice," he growled. He lurched to his feet.

_Just relax_.

Mark stepped into him again. This time he didn't fight it and it didn't hurt as much. But it still felt wrong, but now the sense of wrongness mostly emanated from the two Colt Walkers. It was like having two gun-shaped voids strapped to his thighs. The muted destructive power resonating from them was beyond belief. He could almost feel his soul trembling from their nearness.

Glenn glared up at him, gasping for breath. As his body started to fail, Roman could see the demon Kane pulled himself free of the mound of dying flesh. The demon gathered itself and jumped right at Roman, but Roman, with Mark's inhuman strength, reached out faster than thought and caught the demon around the neck. He lifted Kane into the air and slammed him back down into Glenn's dying body. Blood sprayed out his mouth, but now his eyes were wide with recognition. "Oh, it's you. I see that now. I didn't recognize you earlier," the demon said, almost apologetic.

Mark tipped his head in acknowledgment. _"You know what's coming, Kane?"_

Kane nodded. His eyes were wide with fear, but all the fight had left him. "Didn't realize you were here for me," he said. Blood spurted out of his mouth as he spoke.

"_I'm not. But you didn't score any points with the kid here when you threatened his friends."_

Glenn sighed. "Yeah, that wasn't too smart of me," he admitted. "Well, I guess I'm ready."

_All yours, kid._

He felt Mark give it over to him. This time, it was Roman alone drawing, but only one gun. It was almost weightless but its cold mass was solid in his hand, feeling as if it had been made solely for him. Freeing it from its holster he could truly feel the unrestrained power of the void and the horrific pressure on his soul. Last time it had been bad, but without Mark's buffering presence, this time was even worse. But:

He was determined.

He aimed the Colt Walker carefully.

He was terrified.

He pulled the trigger.

_Note: This chapter was a beast to work out. I rewrote it at least five times. BTW, the snippet of song that Harper sings is from Far From Any Road by the Handsome Family._

_If you like what you're reading, I'd like to hear about it! ~Belle_


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